Plan C
by TheBadlyNamedUser
Summary: Peter thinks he's normal, so why does he feel like he's being followed? Sort of actiony/mystery story, honest reviews please.
1. Chapter 1

It was a day like any other when Peter Kirkland first noticed the white vans. He was woken up at half past seven by his older brother Arthur, after the usual night of strange dreams.

"I had the weirdest dream last night," he said to Arthur over breakfast.

"You always have the weirdest dreams," said Arthur, rolling his eyes. "What was it this time?"

"I dreamt that I got adopted by this strange Swedish man, and he put me in a cardboard box."

"Well good for him," smiled Arthur. "I think you've had dreams like that before."

"Really?" Peter grinned. "Maybe it means something."

"It means you have strange dreams. Come on, eat up. You don't want to be late for school."

Peter shoved a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

"You're just jealous 'cause I have cooler dreams than you," he mumbled.

"Don't speak with your mouth full."

Peter was an orphan. He only had the haziest memories of his parents; they had died when he was very small - three or four. Arthur had raised him for as long as he could really remember. He was only twenty-three - eleven years older than Peter - but he was a parent through and through. Every day he would get Peter up and ready for school before going to work himself, when he got home he would throw himself straight into making dinner - it never tasted very good, but he made it all the same. He was always on the ball with clothes, parents' evenings, school plays, he'd taken courses in first aid if Peter ever hurt himself. They didn't get to holiday or go on days out much, but Peter didn't mind that.

He finished his cereal and picked up his bag.

"Bye Arthur."

"Goodbye Peter. Have a good day. And be careful."

He went to school. Peter was popular at school. The other children found him kind of odd, with the weird and wonderful stories he would make up - usually based at least somewhat on his dreams, which he also had no issue talking about - but at the same time they seemed to be drawn to him, as someone different. It wasn't just his family situation, though that was intriguing enough. But Peter had often been told, in the year since they'd moved her, that there was something about him, something... off. And Arthur. The people who'd met him all agreed that he wasn't like any other twenty-three year old they'd ever met.

"Most twenty-three year olds don't have little brothers to look after," Peter would shrug.

They seemed to think it was more than that. Peter assumed they were all a bit crazy.

It was a five minute bus ride to the school. Peter sat down near the back. The bus jerked into motion. He'd been so excited the first time he'd got the bus alone. Arthur, obviously, had fretted, but he just didn't have the time to drop Peter off in the mornings. Also, he couldn't afford a car.

He got off and walked to the school. There was, as there always was for some reason, a white van parked just outside the school gates. Peter walked past it, stopped, and looked back. He had a very strange feeling that he was being watched. There was no-one around apart from his schoolmates, and there was no reason for him to start getting weird 'being-watched' feelings off them now. He looked at the van. It was empty. He shrugged it off and went into school.

He had an uneventful day. He had a detention after school, so it was quiet when he got out.

The van was still there. Usually it was gone by the time the school day ended. Once again, Peter got the uneasy feeling he was being watched. Once again, he shrugged it off. White vans were pretty common, he was used to there being one there, and so there was absolutely no reason to weird himself out over it.

All the same, he wondered, as he waited for the bus to come, if he should tell Arthur.

No. That was stupid. Arthur would either believe him and wind himself up worrying, or be irritated at being burdened with such a pointless, idiotic concern.

He couldn't help but notice, when he got back to their street, a white van parked on the corner.


	2. Chapter 2

"Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"Have you noticed a lot of white vans round lately?"

Arthur looked at him.

"White vans?"

"Yeah... I've seen quite a few, just parked round the streets."

"That's hardly uncommon."

"Yeah, but... there's not usually this many."

Arthur smiled slightly.

"You watch too much TV. An increase in white vans doesn't mean someone's being spied on."

"Mmm..."

They were doing their shopping for the week. Peter usually liked doing this. He could usually do the puppy dog eyes well enough to make Arthur by him something. But it had been three days since he first go the feeling he was being watched, and furthermore, he couldn't help noticing the white vans pretty much everywhere he went. He was already regretting bringing it up.

Arthur sighed.

"Look, there's no need to worry, OK? Do you see people _in_ these vans?"

"No, they're always empty."

"Precisely." He stopped at the tins shelves. "They're just parked there."

"I keep getting the feeling I'm being watched." Pete looked over his shoulder as he spoke. Arthur followed his gaze.

"There's no-one there, Peter. Only other shoppers."

"I know. But don't you ever get weird feelings like that?"

"Only very occasionally. And they're never true. Everyone gets them sometimes, but it's very rare someone's actually right. So don't worry about them. If something _does_ happen, you can come straight to me."

"OK." Peter was quiet for a moment. He smiled. "Arthur... can I have a magazine?"

* * *

Peter had a dream that night. Nothing unusual there, but this one felt more... urgent, somehow, than the usual dreams.

He was in a room. Surrounded by people. People he recognised. People he didn't know... Everyone seemed scared.

"We have no choice!" shouted a German voice. "If we're found we'll be killed! We have to do this!"

Where was Arthur?

_I don't want to be alone._

He was scared. More scared than he'd ever been in his life.

Arthur.

"Jerk!" shouted Peter, trying his best to fight back the tears in his eyes. "Where were you?"

"We're staying together. It's decided. It's going to be OK."

"B... but... what about...?"

"I'm sorry, you can't pass with anyone else. It has to be me. We're going to be OK."

Light... his head was spinning... Peter started to cry. He immediately hated himself for it.

"I don't... want to..."

"Peter?"

"Don't... want..."

"Peter, wake up."

"Hu... huh?"

Peter forced his eyes open. Arthur was stood over him, looking worried.

"I heard you crying."

Peter blushed.

"Aw, damn... I... I just had a dream... it was..."

"It must have been a fairly bad dream. You really were crying."

"So? People talk in their sleep all the time."

Arthur gave a small smile.

"You seem to be recovering. What was your dream about?"

"I... I don't really know. There was a man shouting... he was German."

"Why do you always dream about strange Europeans."

"They're not always European," said Peter indignantly.

"What was bad about this dream."

"I... I don't know... I was just really scared. You were there..."

"You were scared because I was there?"

"No! I was just scared. You were trying to make me feel better."

"Do you remember what you were scared about?"

Peter shook his head.

"It was only a dream, anyway," he muttered. "No need to be scared of a dream, right?"

"No. But you can still be scared _by_ it. Anyway, you're awake now."

"Yeah. You... you can go now."

"You sure you're OK?"

"I'm twelve. I'm not a baby."

"OK then... goodnight again, Peter."

"'Night."

Arthur went. Peter didn't sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

****

**Author's Note: It is absolutely necessary for this story to have human characters. I'm hoping that won't put anyone off.**

**

* * *

**

"Hello Peter."

Peter looked round as one of his classmates approached him. He was looking over the many corrections to his French homework. Peter was terrible at French. Arthur spoke it - Peter had been rather astonished to find that out when they were on holiday in France last year - but although he was willing to help with homework, he refused to do simple question-and-answer stuff for him.

"Um... hi?"

The girl's name was Stacy, and she was probably the classmate Peter spoke to least out of anyone. She's only moved here a couple of months ago. She didn't talk to anyone really. Peter had tried to talk to her when she first arrived, but although she was friendly and polite enough, she didn't seem overly social.

"I saw you in the supermarket the other day."

"... And?"

"Nothing." She paused. "Who was that guy you were with? He didn't look old enough to be your dad."

Peter frowned. Didn't everyone know about his situation.

Oh... she didn't speak to anyone. Maybe she didn't know.

"He's my brother. Arthur. My parents are dead."

"Oh... I'm sorry."

Peter shrugged.

"It was years ago. I can't really remember them." He tried to think of something else to say; he didn't want to be unfriendly.

"Um... who were you there with? I didn't see you."

"My mum. You were at the tins shelf."

"OK... that's strangely specific."

Stacy smiled.

"Everyone says that. I have a specific memory. What's that? French? How'd you do?"

"Badly. You?"

"Quite well," she admitted. "I'm good at French. But I'm bad at stuff like History."

"Hey, you don't have to try and make me feel better." He paused. "Although I am pretty good at History. Well... as long as it's modern stuff anyway." Another pause. "So it's a pity we're doing the seventeenth century."

"You're still quite good at it though."

"Yeah, but only from the stories my brother tells me. _He's_ good at History."

"And you're good at Geography."

"Uh... yeah."

Why did she suddenly seem to be feeling a need to compliment him?

"I'm going home in a minute," she said, abruptly changing the subject.

"Why?" It was only break.

"I'm going somewhere, the school knows."

"Where are you going?"

"Funeral."

"Oh."

"Can I ask you to give my homework in?"

"I guess so." It wasn't a big ask, and he couldn't really refuse it/

She smiled.

"Thanks." She pulled her bag off her back and rummaged through it, pulling out two books which she handed to him. She looked up.

"There's my mum now. Thanks Peter. See you!"

"See you," said Peter, as she ran off to the school gates, waving back at him as she reached them. She crossed the road, and climbed into a white van. It drove away.

* * *

"I'm still seeing white vans."

Arthur sighed, laying down his knife and fork. It was later that day, and they were just finishing dinner.

"Peter, come on. What do you think these vans are going to do?"

"I just think they're up to something."

"Well, whatever it is, I'm sure it doesn't involve perfectly normal twelve year old boys."

"Mmm. I'm not completely normal though, am I?"

Arthur frowned at him.

"Of course you are."

"Well, no. Our... situation isn't normal."

Arthur sighed again.

"Oh Peter. No, it's not the norm but it's certainly not unheard of, sadly. It certainly wouldn't make people start stalking you."

"A girl at school got in one of the white vans today."

"Are you now accusing your classmates of being in on this?"

"Of course I'm not!"

"Then I would suggest that that lends credence to the theory that the white vans are just white vans."

Peter blushed and looked away.

"Peter, I'm not trying to demean you. I'm trying to reassure you."

"Mmm..." He smiled to show there were no hard feelings, before he made his next comment.

"I wish our parents were still alive, though."

Arthur winced.

"Yes, well... they're not."

"Can you tell me about them?"

"Er... another time maybe. Isn't your programmes on in a minute."

Peter glanced at the clock.

"Five. How did they actually... you know, die?"

Arthur closed his eyes.

"That's rather a morbid question, isn't it?"

"You never tell me."

"It's not really important..."

"Of course it is. They were my parents. At least tell me that."

Arthur sighed once more.

"Very well. They... they disappeared."

"Disappeared? Where?"

"On... on holiday. A... mountain... climbing holiday. Yes. They disappeared."

"Where were we?"

"We were at a neighbour's house."

"So... did they ever find the...?"

"No."

"Oh." Peter thought about it. "So no-one actually knows for sure..."

"They're definitely dead, Peter. If they weren't they would have found a way back by now."

Peter sighed.

"You're kind of blunt, Arthur, you know that? So what if I want to make up stories?"

"Because you might start believing the stories. And no matter how upsetting it is, the truth is always better than lying to yourself." He looked at the clock. "Your programme's on now."

Peter nodded.

"Thanks for making dinner," he muttered, and he left the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: I'm having some issues with the genre classifying of the story right now. It was originally meant to be quite sci-fi, but now I've decided it will work better if I go for a different angle (the plot's still the same as it was ever going to be, I'm just approaching it differently than my original plan), so... sorry about that.**

**Apologies also for Peter's general idiocy.**

* * *

Stacy started talking to Peter more over the next couple of weeks. It was almost unnerving, how suddenly she had become sociable, but Peter figured that maybe she had just needed some kind of icebreaker. He didn't mind; he liked to have as many friends as possible. She wasn't pushy or anything, and although she still didn't talk to anyone else much, she didn't interfere at all with his other friendships, so it was all good.

One day they got talking about holidays.

"We don't go on holiday much," admitted Peter. "Well, we can't afford it. We don't go very far. The furthest we've ever been is France, and we could only afford a long weekend."

"Oh." Stacy looked slightly embarrassed. "We went to America in the summer."

"Cool. I've never been there."

"Umm..."

At lunchtime that day, Peter went down the road to the garage. This wasn't something he should have been doing, but a very large number of students ignored the rule of staying in school. He only went out occasionally anyway.

When he was waiting to be served he happened to look out of the window just in time to see a white van pull up. He stared at it for a moment. A man got out and started putting some petrol in. Peter shook himself. Arthur was right. This was stupid. White vans were white vans, not uncommon.

The man finished filling up and walked into the shop just as Peter was paying for his sweets. He didn't join the queue immediately, wandering off into the aisles instead.

Peter honestly wasn't planning to do what he did next.

The petrol pumps were deserted, apart from the van. Likely, drivers had worked out not to come here at this time, as the shop was so full of disobedient schoolchildren. Peter cut across the pumps area, straying close to the van, and as he passed he couldn't help but notice that one of the back doors was slightly open.

...What?

Surely... surely the guy couldn't have been driving around like this?

Which meant that he'd filled up the van, opened the back door, then walked off.

It didn't even register what he was doing until he was straightening up, and his head brushed the roof of the back.

_Get out, Peter!_

Common sense was going crazy. Peter pushed it away. He didn't have time for common sense. The guy would be back in a minute, so he didn't have much time for...

Time for what, exactly?

The back of the van was empty, except for a large toolbox resting against the right side. Peter pulled open the top drawer.

There were no tools. There were pictures.

It hit Peter how generally _wrong_ this was. If that guy came back he might call the police, and then Peter would be in _serious_ trouble.

Arthur would kill him.

He made to close the drawer, sanity trickling back to him. He had to leave, _now_.

Wait...

That picture...

He pulled it out. His blood ran cold.

That picture was him.

And underneath was a picture of Arthur, taken in an old fashioned black and white style.

The van doors slammed shut. Peter spun round and threw himself at them, hearing as he did so the faintest _click_.

No, no, _no!_

The van jolted into movement. Peter ran to the partition that blocked him from the driver's seat.

"Stop!" he shouted. "Stop,_ please!"_

The van accelerated, and Peter was thrown backwards, landing painfully.

No matter how much he shouted, they didn't stop. Peter felt a wave of terror wash over him. The guy must be able to hear him, he _must_.

Where were they going?


	5. Chapter 5

They stopped. Peter didn't know how long they'd been driving for. It was difficult to gage time when you were struggling not to pass out from sheer terror.

_It's OK, it's OK_, he told himself. _He's just a normal guy, once he realises there's a kid in the back of his van he'll just ring the police._

That was now the most attractive outcome this situation could possibly have.

There was the click of a key in the lock.

"Call the police, _please_," begged Peter silently, watching as a crack of light appeared.

The door opened further, and he saw the man. Peter tried to be quiet - he wasn't sure why, since he was in full view - but was unable to stop himself emitting a tiny squeak.

"I... I'm... r..."

"Out," said the man coldly. Peter did as he was told.

"I... I... I'm sor..."

The man grabbed his arm, roughly, and dragged him away from the van. Peter tried to pull away.

"You don't need to drag me." Alarm helped him to recover his voice. "I'll just go with the police when the call them..."

"I'm not calling the police."

Peter's stared at him.

"W... what? What are you going to...?"

The man spun him round, yanking his wrists roughly behind his back. Peter yelled.

"What are you doing? Let me go! Get off me!" He tugged desperately away from the man, but he wasn't strong enough. He felt cold metal press into his skin.

He didn't bother shouting words this time. He just screamed, as loud and for as long as he could.

"Nobody is anywhere nearby," said the man coldly. "So you can scream all you like."

Peter didn't believe that. They were in a building. It looked like a warehouse. Somewhere you find near a town. He didn't believe this place was in the middle of nowhere. He couldn't be in the middle of nowhere. Because then he'd be dead. And he was sure they hadn't been driving long enough to get that far away. Of course there would be people within screaming distance.

"What do you want?" he blurted.

The man's response was to shove him forwards.

"Hey! Let me go _now_, or... or..."

"I think I'm going to have to gag you," said the man.

Peter screamed as loud as he could. The man clapped a hand over his mouth and shook him.

"Shut up now."

Peter wondered if his elbow or his foot would have more chance of a successful strike.

And that was when the figure appeared.

Completely out of nowhere, and wielding a weapon that Peter could not identify. The figure was dressed from head to toe in black - strange helmet included - and it was impossible to tell their gender.

All that really mattered was that they attacked the man. Peter found himself being shoved aside, wrenched from the man's grasp. He didn't know if it was the figure's intention, but he overbalanced and hit the floor.

"What the...?"

The man sounded very shocked, very alarmed, so it could be assumed that this figure was entirely unexpected, which Peter had to hope was a good thing.

A new voice screamed something Peter didn't understand, and then there was the sound of a skull being hit with great force by something heavy. At the same time a hand grabbed Peter's shoulder and yanked him to his feet. He looked round to see another black-suited figure.

"W... what's...?"

The person just set off running, dragging him behind them. Peter stumbled along as best he could, but his hands were still cuffed behind his back, and he didn't do a great job. Also, he was now utterly terrified _and_ completely bewildered, and it seemed to be affecting his brain.

They went through a tiny backdoor, out into the open air. There was a very fast looking car parked badly mere metres away from said door. The person opened the driver's door and shoved Peter across to the passenger seat while climbing in behind him.

"Wha... what's going...?"

"Not now," growled the person - a man - in a thick foreign accent. He slammed the door and they were moving before you could even register it, at a reckless speed which Peter didn't mind as much as he would have in different circumstances.

"What about...?"

"He'll be fine. You won't be if we don't get you away."

"But what's...?"

"Shut up."

The man suddenly reached up with both hands - much to Peter's alarm - pulled off his helmet and tossed it into the back. Peter looked at his face.

He had albino-esque looks; pale face, hair, red eyes. His expression was deadly serious, and looked as though it had been set this way for some time, but Peter had a strange feeling that this wasn't a naturally serious person.

And there was something else. Something... different? No... well... sort of... Peter squinted at him. There was something about this guy...

They slowed down. Peter looked out of the window for the first time and saw they were on a road that, while not exactly busy, did have other cars on it. He looked back at the man.

"Thank you," he said. The man brushed it away.

"You're going straight home now. We'll be keeping a watch over you and your brother."

"You know about Arthur?" Suddenly Peter was on his guard. This guy may have saved him, but...

Peter's blood ran cold.

How had they shown up so quickly? Wait...

"Do you know where I live?" blurted Peter.

"Yes," said the man shortly. "You don't have to worry about us. But don't tell your brother, he might be alarmed."

"_I'm_ bloody alarmed! Who are you? How do you know where I live? How do you know who I _am_?"

"We saved you. You acted stupid, you nearly got yourself killed or worse. And we saved you. I don't owe you anything. _You_ owe _me_ your life. So shut up."

Peter fell silent. He wanted to make a response, but there didn't seem to be one that wouldn't make him look like an ungrateful brat. And this guy and his friend seemed pretty tough, so the best thing seemed to be to keep his mouth shut and let them "keep watch".

And what was the point in worrying Arthur anyway? Peter didn't think this person wanted to hurt him. Why save his life if he was? And... and something told him to... to trust him? Sort of. He didn't know. He was probably just making stuff up to make himself feel better.

And besides all that, he'd got in danger in the first place by being incredibly stupid and... well... criminal. And Arthur was already going to be furious.


	6. Chapter 6

"Where have you been?"

Arthur had, at the first sound of the door, leapt to his feet and ran to Peter, sheer anxiety in his eyes. A split second later, once he'd assessed that Peter was absolutely fine, that turned - predictably - to anger.

"I was worried sick!" he shouted. "Where were you?"

Peter opened his mouth. He closed it.

_"Oh, I just went out at lunchtime, climbed in the back of a stranger's van, got taken to a warehouse somewhere and had to be saved by a strange albino and his friend. But I'm OK now._"

"Peter! Where were you?"

"I... I, um..."

What could he say? Was there any excuse he could give?

"Peter?" Arthur had his arms folded now. "Are you going to tell me where you've been?"

"I just... lost track of time?"

"_'Lost track of time'?_ You're supposed to come straight home!"

"I know... I just... got talking to some friends."

_"For this long?_ Peter, how stupid do you think I am? _Where have you been?_"

Why shouldn't he tell him? Yes, it looked terrible on him but at least he was only stupid for the beginning of it. The only real reason not to tell Arthur was because that albino guy had told him not to.

Yeah... the albino guy who had saved his life and brought out the excellent point that Arthur wouldn't exactly be _happy _with the thought of people "keeping a watch" over them.

And it was a really _big_ stupid.

"I know I'm supposed to come straight back," he said, "But I was talking just as we left and I missed the bus..."

"So why didn't you call me?"

"Um... I haven't got any credit."

"I bought you some three days ago! How many people do you call?"

"Um... too many?"

"Peter!"

"I'm sorry! I didn't think, OK? I didn't know you'd be this upset."

"How did you think I'd react?" Arthur closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Peter watched him, unsure if he was starting to calm down or getting ready for another round of shouting.

"Your tea's in the oven," he said eventually, through gritted teeth. "It's cold now, but you'll have to live with it. And then you're going to your room for the rest of the evening."

Peter opened his mouth to protest that he wasn't a baby. He thought better of it and just nodded.

"Thank you," he mumbled, not meeting his brother's eye. He went into the kitchen.

Neither of them spoke again. Peter went straight to his room when he was finished. He tried to do some homework, read a book, play some video games... but everything that required the slightest bit of concentration was beyond him. Eventually, he gave up, changed into his pyjamas and climbed into bed, even though it was nowhere near late enough for him to have usually considered going to bed.

With everything that had happened, he had somehow nearly forgotten one thing, but now - once he'd gone through everything else in his mind about fifty times - he remembered the photographs.

That guy had pictures of him. The guy who saved him had known who he was, so it seemed Peter was a specific target. In which case, having pictures of him - while still an absolutely terrifying thought - was sort of to be expected. And Arthur...

They were after Arthur too, apparantly. The albino guy was keeping an eye on both of them. So they had a picture of Arthur too.

But why black and white? Not just ordinary black and white, now Peter thought about it it really had looked old. He thought you could probably get effects like that done, but when had Arthur? He'd certainly never seen any pictures like it, and Arthur didn't look any younger, so he should have remembered. Especially since his brother had been dressed up like he was going to a fancy dress party. The picture should at least have rung a few bells.

Peter shook his head. This was a stupid thing to wind himself up about, especially considering everythign else that had happened. He could easily ask Arthur to set his mind at rest.

Uh... yeah, how would he bring that topic of conversation up?

He pulled the cover up over his head. Yes, this was just stupid. He didn't have to remember _everything_, and Arthur didn't have to share everything with him. He could legitimately worry about being kidnapped again... but as long as wasn't stupid he should be OK, right? And the two people were watching him. Well, there could be more than two, for all he knew. Yes. He would be OK. So would Arthur.

Yes. This was a one-off. Of course they would be OK.


	7. Chapter 7

Peter was in an odd mood at school the next day. Not quite a bad mood, but near enough that people avoided him. Peter wasn't the kind of person who had a go at everyone when he wasn't in the best mood, but nor was he a great person to talk to when he was like that. Brooding. He was brooding. And any attempt to interrupt that could expect to be met with ignorance at least, if nothing else.

There didn't seem to be as many white vans around today - and it wasn't like he was going to climb into one, anyway - but Peter was still scared. Also, if that guy had been telling the truth, he could be being watched right now. Alright, he wasn't being watched (he really hoped) by the person who had kidnapped him, but he was being watched, and that was creepy.

Why hadn't he just told Arthur?

He should tell him tonight.

Ah... but then Arthur would be even madder at him for not telling him straight away. And that guy really had seemed like he could get mad. And Arthur would go to the police. OK, there was a dangerous man on the loos, and Peter ought to go to the police for the safety of other people, at least... but...

Well, the guy had made it seem like this was pretty specific to him. As had the photographs.

Ah... he'd been trying not to think about the photographs.

That was really, _really_ creepy. It got creepier the more he thought about it.

"Hello, Peter!"

Stacy. Apparently she hadn't got the memo not to speak to him today. He half attempted a smile.

"Hi." He turned away.

"Where did you go yesterday afternoon?"

"Oh... I didn't feel well."

That was at least one thing. Arthur didn't seem to know he'd missed the afternoon of school. None of the teachers had questioned him on it either. This wasn't a particularly good school. Stacy was the first person who'd even acknowledged he was off.

"Oh, are you OK now?"

"Yes."

That sounded rude.

"Thanks." A pause. "Did I miss anything important?"

"No. We didn't do a lot. Same as usual."

"Good."

"Are you OK?"

Ah... why wouldn't she just go away? He didn't _want_to be rude, but politeness became more difficult everytime she spoke. Was she completely inept at reading people's moods?

"Yes. I'm fine. Honestly."

_Go away._

"We did get some homework... do you want that?"

"No." Why would he want to pass up a perfectly good excuse not to do work?

Something surprising happened. Stacy actually seemed to get the message.

"OK then," she said. "See you in class."

She went and sat on the wall and pulled a sheaf of papers out of her bag. Peter glanced at them. They were yellowed.

Was there a reason she was reading old pieces of paper?

Peter shook his head. He'd got her to go away, so he wasn't going to make her think he wanted to talk by asking questions. She seemed a little odd, so it wasn't really that strange.

Anyway. He had more important things to think about.

* * *

Last night, Peter's dreams, when he eventually got to sleep, had been preoccupied with reliving the terror that he had experienced. Now they slipped back to the regular weirdness. Except that the guy who had saved him was in them.

Except that that didn't seem different at all.

He was saying goodbye. To a boy a few years older than himself. He was crying. Everyone was crying. Even Arthur was crying. He was being hugged by a guy who didn't look like he was ever planning to let go.

"It... it might not be so bad," said Peter's friend. "We might even like it better being..."

A girl's voice called his name. Peter looked round. He cried out a name and threw his arms round her.

"You're annoying," said the girl in a muffled voice, "But I'm really going to miss you."

"No, you're not," said Peter.

The albino man appeared. He put a hand on the shoulder of the man hugging England.

"It's your turn next," he said softly.

The man moved away, his eyes shining behind his glasses.

"G... goodbye. I..."

"Goodbye," said Arthur softly.

"I... I'd better get back," said the girl. "Or my brother will be worried."

Peter nodded. He tried to stop crying, and failed.

"Goodbye," he whispered.

The alarm woke him up. It was morning, and his pillow was damp with tears.


	8. Chapter 8

"Alright." Peter sighed. "What are those papers you keep reading?"

"Huh?" Stacy looked bemused.

"You keep pulling them out in front of me, so what are they?"

"They... they're just for a project I'm doing."

"What project?"

"Not for school. My parents hired a tutor so I could have a better chance at getting good results when I finish school."

Peter frowned.

"So... what? You're having a tutor right through high school?"

"Yes."

"If they care that much, why didn't they just pay for you to go to a better school?"

"Oh, um... they wanted me to experience diversity."

Peter decided to forget about the tutor part. He nodded at the papers.

"So what is the project about?"

"It's a research project. I have to decide if people today are just as superstitious as they were in the past."

"They're not."

"You'd be surprised. Some people apparently thought the world would end in the year 2000, then again in 2012."

"They thought the world would end twice?"

Stacy smiled.

"No, 2012 was their new date. But they thought the world would end in the year 1000 too."

"The world's ended a lot, hasn't it?"

"Well, that's just the kind of stuff I have to look at. People still believe all kinds of crazy things."

"Mmm... have fun, I guess."

He was about to walk away when she started talking again.

"These papers are my absolute favourite story."

Peter stopped. Well, he had asked, he guessed.

"It's from... it was about ten years ago. There was this bizarre story about a bunch of immortal people who were responsible for all the evil in the world." She laughed. "Some people actually _believed_ this. There was a website set up asking for contributions to hunt them down. They even reckoned they'd found a couple." She paused. "But they didn't, though."

"Obviously."

"No, I mean, they didn't attack the people or anything. No-one got killed. I'd feel bad laughing if they had. I feel kind of bad anyway, since I think they got harassed a little bit. But it's just so stupid!"

Peter had to agree that it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard.

"I hope someone sane made some money out of their stupidness."

"That's not very nice."

"If you believe something like that you deserve to be scammed."

"Well, they did have some pretty strange stuff. Like pictures of identical people taken nearly a hundred years apart."

"So someone photoshopped some pictures, and people actually believed they were real?"

"They were apparently quite convincing. I can't seem to find any copies though. It got into a couple of newpapers, believe it or not."

"What, as news?"

"No, the reports were on the people who believed it. But that shows it must have been fairly big." She frowned. "The whole thing seems to have disappeared really suddenly though. The website got taken down, the people who'd been spreading it just shut up, and all the pictures seemed to disappear - like I said. Of course, some people decided this was somehow proof, but they died down pretty quickly too. Now everyone's completely forgotten about it; it's almost impossible to find stuff about it."

"So how did you hear about it?"

"Completely by accident. I just saw a little thing when I was looking stuff up and I just had to find out more when I read it." She laughed. "Sorry, but I just can't get over the idiocy of the whole thing."

"Are you sure it wasn't just some massive joke that got out of hand?" asked Peter, who was also having issues believing this story.

"I don't know for sure it didn't start out that way, but some people definitely believed it. That's the important thing for my project."

"Oh yeah." Peter had almost forgotten _why_ he was being told this ridiculous tale. "Good luck with that."

Stacy smiled. The bell rang, and they had to go back to lessons.


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry this chapter's not very good, but I had trouble getting through it, so please bear with me. I was just kind of happy that I'd finished it. Hopefully the next one will be better.**

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* * *

**

Peter's nightmares that night were worse than usual. They were just as normal for the most part, but something made him wake up screaming. Arthur came into the room and held him until he stopped shaking.

"What happened?" he asked. Peter shook his head.

"It was... it was just a dream. I'm stupid."

"No you're not. What happened in the dream?"

"I can't remember. It was probably nothing."

"You wake up screaming, shaking and sweating and you think it was nothing?"

"It was a dream."

Arthur didn't speak for a few moments.

"Your dreams seem to have gotten worse the last few nights."

"Huh?"

"I've heard you talking in your sleep a few times."

"Everyone has nightmares. Don't you ever have nightmares?"

"Yes, frequently, but I don't tend to wake up screaming, sweating and shaking. What's wrong, Peter?"

Peter pulled away from him.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm fine now. I'm twelve. I can handle a stupid nightmare."

Arthur did not look the slightest bit convinced.

"Peter..."

"Tell me about our parents," said Peter. He didn't know why he said it. it was an impulse, it came from nowhere. Arthur was caught offguard.

"P... pardon?"

"Tell me about them."

"I've told you..."

"No you haven't. You never do. You always avoid the question."

"Well... I don't like to talk about them."

"Why?"

"Because... because they're dead."

"That doesn't mean you can't talk about them!"

"Aah... it's late now, Peter. You've got school in the morning." He gave him a quick hug and retreated towards the door.

"Arthur...!"

"Goodnight Peter. We'll talk tomorrow, OK? When you get back from school."

"OK..." said Peter doubtfully.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight Arthur."

* * *

In second period next day, Peter was called into the deputy head's office. He was puzzled; he didn't think he'd done anything particularly bad recently. Well, aside from the skiving, but his form tutor would have asked him about that first, surely?

He walked slowly, going through in his head what else he could have done to merit this summons. Nothing serious came to mind, and he would only have been called for something serious, surely?

So... he guessed it had to be the skiving. Peter duly started working on his story.

He reached the door and, unwillingly, raised a hand and knocked. He pushed the door open and looked inside.

"Ah, Peter."

Peter was fairly sure he'd never spoken to this woman before, and so was slightly put off by her knowing who he was. Yes, she'd called him here, but he would have at least expected to hear a questioning note in her voice.

He brushed it away. It was perfectly understandable that he was paranoid lately, but that didn't mean the deputy head was out to kill him. Why shouldn't she know who the students at her school were?

He went inside.

"Take a seat, Peter."

He sat down, nervous. She didn't say anything for a few moments. He was on the verge of blurting out an explanation when she spoke.

"Peter, is there anything you'd like to talk about?"

Peter stared at her.

"What?"

She looked uncomfortable.

"Anything going on? At school, or... or at home?"

"No. Is that all you wanted?" Could he leave?

"Peter, it's OK. You can tell me if anything's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong," said Peter, slightly alarmed now. "Have I given any indication anything is wrong?"

"We've been notified that you've told one of your friends some things which concern us."

Peter stared at her.

"Well, I haven't." He wouldn't tell anyone in this place if something _was_ wrong! Where had all this come from?

A strange thought started nagging away at the back of his mind.

"Who told you I'd said something?"

"I promised to keep that secret."

"Well if they're telling _lies_ about me..." began Peter heatedly.

"Peter, it's OK. You can tell me if anything's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong! Where have you got this from?"

"Well, actually Peter, we've been concerned for quite a while."

"What? What do you think I'm hiding?"

The door opened without a knock. Peter looked round.

Stacy. He looked at the deputy head, waiting for her to ask the girl to leave. She didn't. Peter heard the click of a key in the lock. He whipped his head round.

"What the...? What are you doing?"

"Peter," said the deputy head, in a different tone to the one she had been using just moment's before. "You need to tell us everything."

"Tell you...? _What?_ I haven't got anything to tell you! And why is _she_ here?"

"We know the truth about you, Peter. So you may as well tell us everything."


	10. Chapter 10

"W... what are you talking about?" Peter was feeling kind of scared now. He was locked in here with a girl he knew to be not what you'd call _normal_, and the deputy head... who seemed to have lost it a bit.

"Peter, it's OK," said Stacy, placing a hand on his forearm. "We know what you are. You don't need to hide it."

Peter pushed her away.

"What are you _talking_ about? Let me out of here!"

"It's OK," said Stacy. "We know what happened the other day."

"What?" Peter took a moment to stare at her.

"That man. We know why he kidnapped you."

Peter still thought they were both crazy, but he couldn't help himself. What could they do, anyway? This was a school. He forced himself to calm down.

"Go on then."

"Peter, we know the truth about you..."

"Well apparently I don't!" snapped Peter. "I have no idea what you're talking about!"

Stacy hesitated a moment, before sliding off her bag and pulling out the sheaf of yellowed paper, along with several other things. She held one out to Peter. He took it, wary.

The picture was of a man, resplendent in old military uniform. Black and white. The man was Arthur.

"Yeah - and? You've for some creepy reason got a picture of my brother dressed up for something. So what?"

"Peter, he isn't dressing up."

Peter laughed, a wary edge to it.

"Sure. And you're both completely sane."

"The picture's clearly old."

"No, the picture is clearly a joke one."

"Have you ever seen it before?"

"Probably."

_In the van, for one thing._

"Can you remember?"

"I don't have to know everything my brother does, OK? He went somewhere with some friends. It was probably years ago."

"You told me your brother was twenty three."

"It can still have been a few years ago," snapped Peter.

"But you don't remember?"

"I'm not a computer. Why should I remember every detail of someone else's life?"

"Your own brother? Who's raised you since you were... how old were you when your parents died?"

"Three or four. I suppose that's weird too."

"And he's raised you since then?"

"Yes! What is wrong with you? Can't you get your head round that?" He turned to the deputy head. "I want to go."

"You asked to hear what she had to say..."

"And she's not saying what I asked for! She's just being weird!"

"You're not listening to her, Peter."

"I'm gonna get you fired once I leave this room."

She shrugged, like she really didn't care about such a blot on her career. Peter frowned. He'd have liked the threat to have had more effect than that.

"Peter," said Stacy, and he looked back at her.

"Make your point or shut up."

"If Arthur is twenty three then he's only eleven years older than you."

"And?"

"So when you were three... he would have been fourteen."

Peter stared at her. He shook his head.

"So? I didn't say he looked after me by himself right from the start."

"So someone else looked after you both?"

"Let me out."

She held up the sheaf of paper.

"Peter..."

"Don't say it! I'm still trying to believe you're slightly sane. Put those stupid pieces of paper away."

"I'm not crazy, Peter."

"Yes you are."

"Peter, the stories are _real_."

"No they're not! You really _are_ insane. What are you even doing in high school? Shouldn't you be in an asylum or something?"

"Do you remember your parents?"

"I was only little! Let me - "

"Do you have any pictures?"

"Shut up! Let me out!"

"Peter, I believe you when you say you didn't know any of this - "

"Because it's rubbish! It's not true! You need help! Now let me out!"

"Let him out, Stacy. He's not going to listen now."

"I'm not going to listen to you lunatics _ever_!" shouted Peter, as Stacy unlocked the door. He shoved past her - unneccesary, but he was angry - and ran out without a word.

It didn't even cross his mind to go back to class. Not in a place that employed a madwoman, not to the same class as Stacy. He headed straight for home.


	11. Chapter 11

"Tell me about our parents."

Arthur blinked, apparently expecting some kind of greeting when he walked through the front door.

"Hello Peter?"

"You said you'd tell me about our parents."

"I didn't mean the instant I stepped through the -"

"Tell me about them!"

Arthur frowned.

"Peter, what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong!" Peter tried to make himself calm down, not very successfully. He may have been home for a few hours, but he had spent those few hours winding himself up more and more. He hadn't even taken off his shoes and uniform; he couldn't think of anything but what Stacy had said. The lunatic.

"I... I just want you to tell me. Please."

"Can't it wait until tea?"

"No! I mean... please."

"O... OK." Arthur looked uncomfortable. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything. What did they look like? Why don't we have any pictures?"

"The pictures? They were... we lost them in a move. They were all in one box... and it went missing."

"What did they look like? Couldn't you get pictures from anyone else?"

"Er... no. And they looked like... she looked a lot like you. But she had darker hair."

Peter felt his stomach churn at his brother's hesitation.

"Are you making this up?"

"O... of course I'm..."

"How old were you when they died?"

"Excuse me?"

"How old were you?"

"I was... about..."

"How old was I?"

"You were... three or four?"

"Did you look after me right from the beginning?"

"Well... yes."

Peter felt a pang of horror.

"Are you sure? Why are you being so slow to answer?"

"You're not really giving me a - "

"Do you even know the answers?" shrieked Peter.

Arthur stared at him. He laughed nervously.

"O... of course I do. Peter, what's got into you?"

"Tell me the truth! Can you remember our parents?"

"Of course I..." Arthur faltered. He closed his eyes.

"Arthur? Arthur!"

"No," said Arthur softly.

"No? What do you mean 'no'? You're twenty three! You must have been a teenager when they died! How can you not remember?"

"I don't know, Peter."

"Didn't this _ever bother you_?" cried Peter. "Not even once?"

"I try not to think about it."

_"You try not to think about it?"_ echoed Peter in disbelief. "You can't remember half your life and you think that's OK?"

"Of course I don't. But I didn't want to alarm you."

"How far back can you actually remember?"

Arthur hesitated.

"Do you want me to be completely honest?"

_"Yes."_

"OK... Please don't be alarmed... but I can only really remember... less than two years."

"Two..." Peter stared at him in horror. "_Two years?_ So don't you remember...?" He searched his mind for some big event from when he was younger. Nothing came.

_What?_

No way... he'd have noticed that. He'd have realised!

Peter screamed.

"Peter!" Arthur moved towards him, holding out a hand. Peter shoved it away.

"Get away from me!" he shouted. "You're a liar! You've lied about _everything_!"

"I just didn't want to frighten you..."

"And you just thought it would be OK to just _make everything up_?" Peter knew he was verging on hysteria now, but he couldn't help himself. Everything... everything was just...

"Peter, look at how you're reacting now," pleaded Arthur. "How was I supposed to tell you?" He reached out again. This time Peter shoved him away, as hard as he could.

"Get off me! _Get off me!_"

"Peter, just calm down, please!"

Peter ran. Arthur tried to grab him but he pushed him away as viciously as he could, so that he nearly fell.

"Peter!" He heard his brother's voice calling after him, his footsteps, but he was already out on the darkening streets. He didn't know where he wanted to run to, just that he wanted to run. Away from Arthur. Away from everything.


	12. Chapter 12

Peter was lost. He didn't care. That was good. He'd wanted to get away. He didn't want to go home yet. He did want to go somewhere. It was dark and chilly.

No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't remember that far back. He could remember... he could remember turning eleven. But he couldn't remember being ten.

No, no. It was Stacy. She'd screwed with his head, somehow made him forget. Yes. He just needed some rest.

In which case he should probably go home.

Arthur! What was wrong with him? How could he not remember?

Peter sat down on the pavement. He didn't know if this was a particularly good thing to do, but it was all too much.

What if... if what she had said...?

No! That was the most ridiculous thing of all! He would _not_ let himself believe something so stupid!

"Peter."

His heart nearly stopped. He hadn't heard any footsteps. He jumped to his feet and looked round.

It was the albino man. He may have saved Peter before, but right now he was just another part of all of this, and Peter didn't want to see him.

"Go away."

"No. You have to come with me."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Then I'l knock you out and carry you."

Peter stared at him.

"Are you being...?"

"Yes. My companion's gone to get your brother, so you'll soon be reunited."

"I don't want to be reunited with that liar!"

"He's not a liar, Peter. He's just a man who's done his best. It turns out that wasn't enough, but that's not his fault. Now come with me."

Peter hesitated... but he could see the guy was deadly serious. He nodded, reluctantly.

"Who are you, anyway?"

"It doesn't matter who I am. You might find out soon."

"What's your name?"

The man sighed.

"If you must call me anything, call me Gilbert. Now come on."

They set off walking down the dark street.

"Where are we - ?"

"No more questions. I'm not saying where we're going out loud."

Peter frowned but didn't argue. He didn't feel he really had a right to argue with a man who had saved his life. Especially when he was now entrusting his life to him once more; if this guy was planning something bad, there would be nothing Peter could do about it.

So was it particularly wise to go with him?

Everything was so messed up lately. There didn't seem any point in following the usual laws of common sense. The man - Gilbert - had saved his life once, so there seemed to be a fairly good reason to trust him.

They walked in silence for a while. Gilbert led him through the backstreets. Peter started to feel a tinge of fear, that grew as the minutes went by.

Footsteps.

"Hello Peter," said a voice.

* * *

"Peter! Peter!"

Arthur Kirkland called his brother's name, helplessly. He had been searching for him for a long time now. How could he have let him run away like that? How had he been unable to catch a twelve year old? He knew his brother was fast, and that he'd had to steady himself first, but he should have been faster! And once he was outside, he'd quickly disappeared, down an alley or something.

He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself. Peter had probably gone home by now. Yes. If he went home he'd find his brother waiting for him. Of course. He may still be upset, but he had enough sense to realise he couldn't stay out all night by himself.

What if he was lost, though? And he really _had_ been upset. Arthur couldn't blame him, but he hadn't seemed prepared to be rational in the slightest.

"Arthur."

He spun round at the unfamiliar voice.

Behind him stood a slim, effeminate, Oriental man. Arthur took a step back.

"How do you know my name?"

"That's not important. You're in great danger. You and your brother."

"How do you know about my brother?"

"Come with me and I'll explain everything."

Arthur moved away.

"I have to find my brother."

"My companion has gone to get him. You'll be reunited if you come with me."

"I don't know your companion," said Arthur sharply. "And I don't know you. Who are you?"

"Do you know what happened to Peter the day he came home late?"

Arthur felt a chill run down his spine.

"He said he missed the bus."

"And did you really believe that?"

"Of course I did! Where else would he have -?"

A shadow figure appeared behind the Oriental man. It hadn't made a sound. Arthur could only make out vague features, but he knew it was hostile. He opened his mouth to give a warning.

He was already moving. The figure was down in an instant, and then Arthur was being pulled along.

"Come on! There's more where he came from!"

He let go and Arthur ran alongside on his own.

"Who... who was...?"

"The enemy! The people we need to get you and your brother safe from."

"_What?_ Why are we even in danger?" Arthur couldn't believe that someone would wish harm on them - why _them_, of all people? But some part of him knew that this was true. That whoever that figure had been, it was someone to run away from.

And so he ran.


	13. Chapter 13

**Sorry, this chapter ends weakly. Well, I'm not a hundred percent pleased with any of it, but the ending is the worst part. I just couldn't seem to find a way to write this bit well, and it's kind of necessary. So sorry about that.**

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* * *

**

Gilbert grabbed Peter and pulled him close.

"Don't move," he murmured, "Unless you have to."

"Peter, I would advise you step away from that man."

It was the deputy head from school. Peter half laughed. Why would he listen to a lunatic like that? Over a guy who'd saved his life, no less.

"I would advise _you_ to stay back," said Gilbert. "No - leave. If you know what's good for you then you'll go now."

"I'll leave if you hand over Peter."

"Why would I?"

"Because I have back up."

There were soft footsteps behind them. Peter looked round. Two more people had appeared. When he looked back there were two more either side of the deputy head.

Gilbert swore under his breath. He didn't move forwards or back, but Peter could tell he was tensed up, ready to fight anyone who came any nearer. There was a long moment where no-one moved.

One of the men stepped forwards. Peter felt Gilbert's hand leave his shoulder.

What happened next happened too fast for Peter to really follow. There was a _thud_, a noise somewhere between a groan and a yell, and the guy was lying on the floor, moaning.

And then...

Everyone was suddenly coming at them. Gilbert was moving impossibly fast, holding them at bay. One was apparently unconscious already.

Peter stood rooted to the spot. Should he... help? Run?

_"Don't move unless you have to."_

Gilbert seemed to be handling this pretty well... did he have to move? Could he actually help? He was just a kid, a twelve year old boy, what could he do?

But he couldn't leave Gilbert to try and fight off five - well, four now - people on his own. He had to help in some way. But now he found that he was unable to move.

Until a hand grabbed his shoulder. He had already been terrified, but the bolt of fear that shot through him now was absolutely pure, and drove all other thoughts and feelings instantly away. He spun round, his fist flying. The man reeled back, holding his face. Peter's thoughts returned. There was blood on his fist. He wiped it away. It wasn't his.

Surely he hadn't hit the guy _that_ hard? How could he have?

He looked back round, sensing someone.

Gilbert. He shoved Peter to one side and went for the man who had just been punched. Peter heard a _thump_, a groan, then nothing. The guy was unconscious. He hoped.

He looked round. There were three more bodies lying on the ground, all completely motionless. Peter gulped. Had Gilbert done all that?

"Come on," said Gilbert. He was breathing heavily, and Peter noticed there was blood on his clothes. He looked back at the bodies.

"Nice punch, by the way. Now we have to get out of here."

He set off at a brisk walk down the alley. Peter followed, carefully stepping over the body of the guy he had punched.

A new figure stepped out in front of them. Smaller. Younger.

Stacy.

Gilbert stopped.

"Move," he said. Stacy shook her head. Yet another figure appeared behind her. How many of them were there?

Gilbert moved, completely shielding him.

"You saw what I did to your friends. If you have any common sense you'll move."

His foot nudged Peter's ankle. Peter hesitated. Was that intentional?

It kicked him again, a little harder. Peter turned and ran. He hoped that was what he was meant to do. At the same time he heard a yelp from Stacy. He resisted the urge to look round.

He shot out of the end of the alley and faltered. What now? Where did he go?

Arms suddenly appeared, wrapped round his chest, a hand clamped over his mouth. He kicked out, squirmed, tried to shout... but then he was being thrown down into somewhere pitch black, something was slammed over him. He started screaming as soon as the hand was gone, but now he was trapped. And moving. He heard yelling outside, he thought he heard Gilbert, but no-one came to let him out. Peter felt a wave of pure hopelessness engulf him. He was suddenly done with screaming and shouting; all he could do now was cry.


	14. Chapter 14

They came to a building.

Arthur had decided to go with the man. He claimed they would meet up with Peter, and though there was every chance he was lying, he seemed to know a lot, and could Arthur take that chance? Whoever this man was, he either wanted to - and probably could - help, or he was going to kill him. And since when was Arthur's life worth as much as his brother's?

The building looked pretty run down. Arthur would not normally have walked into it, regardless of who said he should. But when he looked at this man... something just told him to trust him.

For a moment, Arthur knew the man's name. But it was gone in an instant.

"Go in."

He blinked. The man had opened the door and was waiting for him to step inside. Arthur went inside. The man stepped inside after him and closed the door.

"Are you sure you can't tell me your name?" It was disconcerting to only be able to think of someone by their gender.

He sighed.

"If you _must_give me a name, then you may call me Yao."

"Yao?"

"It's not my name, but if it makes you feel more comfortable you may use it."

Arthur wondered about asking about his real name, but decided against it; it would be pointless, he was sure. He instead looked around the room he was now in, which was every bit as abandoned as one would expect from the exterior. It seemed quite a random place to come, to be honest.

"We're not staying here long," said Yao, as though he could read Arthur's mind. "This is just where my companion and I arranged to meet. We'll be leaving as soon as he gets here."

"With Peter."

"That's the plan."

"Who are you? I mean, why are you here?"

"I'm doing what I promised a lot of people I would."

"What? Promised who?"

"That's not important."

"Well what do we have to do with it."

"That's not important."

"Is anything important?"

"Your brother is, isn't he?"

"Where is he?"

"My companion is bringing him."

"Who is your companion?"

"The name you may use is Gilbert."

"But who is he? If he's got my brother..."

"He should be bringing him to us now."

"What then? Who was that guy before? You said he was 'the enemy', but I don't have any enemies."

Yao almost seemed to laugh.

"Trust me, Arthur Kirkland, you have plenty of enemies. I wouldn't always be prepared to rule myself out of the role, but luckily for you I'm on your side this time."

"What? Why... what did I do? And what about Peter?"

"These particular enemies are after you because they're grossly misinformed idiots who don't recognise consequences. They don't hate you in particular; you're just part of a group that they hate."

"What group?"

"If I told you your world would fall apart."

Arthur stared at him. What...? What was this man _talking_ about?

_He's mad_, decided Arthur. _I should leave._

But at the moment the door opened and another man came into the room. A white haired, red eyed man, breathing heavily. He was alone.

Yao stepped forwards.

"Where's the kid?"

The albino man shook his head.

"They got him," he said, sounding wretched.

"Who got him?" Arthur felt fear grab his heart tighter than it had already held him.

"Oh crap." The man looked away from him.

"What?" Yao looked shocked. "How could that happen? They're _humans_."

"They had a kid! I couldn't hurt a kid!"

Yao shook his head.

"We can still find him!" insisted the albino - Gilbert, Arthur presumed. "They won't do anything to him yet. They - "

"Who are _'they'_?" interrupted Arthur, alarmed by this exchange. "What do you mean _'humans'_?"

Gilbert shook his head. Arthur's eyes were drawn to the reddish-brown stains on his clothes.

"There was fighting," said Gilbert. "I didn't let him go without a fight."

"Who's taken him?"

"We'll explain," said Yao. "But you have to come with us now."

Arthur took a step back.

"I don't even know you people... why should I trust you?"

"I think you do know us, Arthur."

Arthur stared at him.

"What are you _talking_...?" He trailed off. Yao was right. He didn't know how... but he did know these people.

No... if he knew who they were then he would know it.

Arthur put a hand to his forehead. He could feel something, clawing away at the back of his mind, but whatever it was his mind wasn't letting it through.

"Just trust us, Arthur. We want to help you, we want to get your brother back. You can't remember, but you've trusted us before."

"And was that trust well founded?"

Yao hesitated.

"It was until I let them catch your brother," said Gilbert.

Arthur closed his eyes and shook his head.

"How do I know you're not making all this up? He could be on the streets right now."

Yao pulled something from his pocket. He handed it to Arthur.

"What is...?"

"It isn't really anything. It's just yours."

Arthur looked down at the item in his hand. He could see at once that it _was_ something, It was a coin, a heavy, golden coin. Very old. And it was authentic - he knew that at once without question. He opened his mouth to protest that it wasn't his...

His fingers closed around it. It was his. And suddenly he knew that these people were telling the truth, that they did want to help Peter, and his only chance to get his brother back was to go with them. He nodded, slipping the coin into his pocket.

"Let's go," he said.


	15. Chapter 15

Peter didn't know how long he was in darkness for. His tears eventually dried up, and all he could do was lie there with his hands over his face, trembling uncontrollably, absolutely terrified.

They came to a stop. Peter uncovered his face as the boot opened above him. A face appeared.

Peter brought his foot up. It hit the face with an unpleasant crunching sound. The man yelled and reeled back. Instantly two pairs of hands were pinning down his arms and legs.

"Be careful!" snapped a female voice. The deputy head. "He can still lash out like an immortal."

"Like a _what_?" protested Peter. "Let me - "

Tape was stuck over his mouth. Peter made the angriest noise he could and jerked violently. This didn't help him; they pulled him up, set him on the ground and tied his wrists behind his back.

"Just walk, Peter. Make this easy for all of us."

Peter couldn't make known exactly what he thought of this suggestion, but he managed to portray his feelings fairly well through the limited forms of expression he had. But he was a child, and they just dragged him anyway. Towards a building. Just an ordinary house, except there were no others nearby.

He was pulled through a door into a passage. Peter was surprised to find that it actually _was_ an ordinary house. It didn't stop his futile escape attempts.

"Oh, stop it, Peter. Where will you run to?"

Peter didn't care where he ran to, as long as it was away from here. He kicked out at her. it didn't have much effect.

She pulled open another door and shoved him through. He spun round in time to have the door slammed in his face. He heard a key click in a lock and a bolt being scraped across but he couldn't scream. It was dark, but a light flickered on above him, which was one thing. He looked round.

The room was... plain. Nothing else. It had beige wallpaper, a couple of chairs and a table... and that was it. No window. No other furniture.

How long were they going to keep him in here? With his hands tied behind his back and his mouth covered? They couldn't leave him here for long, surely?

They didn't. Soon enough, the door opened, and two men came in. One of them grabbed Peter. Peter threw out a half hearted kick, but it was becoming painfully obvious, even through his denial, that he was not going to get away from these people, and the struggle he put up as they pretty much carried him out of the room was more from a sense of duty than anything.

They didn't take him far; just upstairs. They reached a door, opened it, untied his wrists and pushed him through. Once again, the door was shut before he could properly turn. He turned back to the room, tearing the tape off his mouth.

She was there. The deputy head. In fact, Peter didn't like that title; he hardly thought she deserved it.

"Who are you?" he said. "Why did you bring me here? Where is this?"

"Peter, you know who I am."

"I never bothered to learn your name. It didn't seem important."

She sighed.

"Children. My name is Mrs Ratner, which you really ought to know. As for why you're here, please take a seat and I'll tell you."

Peter stared at her. She was acting so... normal. Like this _was_ normal. What was wrong with this woman?

"Let me go!" He might as well _try_ yelling orders at her.

"After all the trouble we went through to bring you here? No, Peter, just sit down and I'll tell you exactly why we brought you here."

Peter glared at her. He didn't move.

"You might as well. You're not getting away. And you know there are more of us on the other side of that door."

He sat down. If he got a chance, he would try to run, of course, but for now he didn't have a chance.

"Would you like a drink?"

"Shut up. Why am I here?"

"You're here so the world can find out the truth about you."

"You're insane. There's nothing to know about me, I'm just an ordinary kid."

"No, you're not. Now, I will believe that you genuinely think you are normal, so we'll make sure you don't suffer too much..."

Peter felt himself go colder.

"What do you mean... 'too much'? What do you think I am?"

"From our little discussion the other day - which you so rudely ran out on - and your talks with Stacy, I'd have thought that was obvious."

"Yeah, I'm totally immortal. So how hard did you hit your head?"

"Well, it's a little more complex than what Stacy told you."

Peter scowled.

"So I suppose you're going to tell me it all now?"

She smiled.

"I might as well tell you everything I know. And soon enough, you'll be telling us the rest."


	16. Chapter 16

**Sorry for the wait and then this chapter not really being worth it. I feel I should warn that realistic scenarios are not my strong point (I tend to make up the story then try to explain how it was able to happen later), so this is probably full of logic fails. Also sorry for the awkwards title drop - titles also aren't my strong point, but I had to explain it at some point and this seemed like the best chance I was going to get. Overall, sorry, this really isn't as good as it could be.**

Arthur knew he must be mad.

He reached into his pocket and touched the golden coin. What was it? Why did it make him trust these people?

They were walking through the back alleys again, Yao in front, Gilbert at the back. Both were tense, ready for an attack. Arthur was tense too, but his mind was occupied with thoughts of his brother.

They reached a row of garages. Yao waled forwards and unlocked one, while Gilbert stood and looked in every direction at once.

Yao beckoned Arthur to get in the car that sat in the garage. It was silver, new and fast looking, but otherwise nondescript. Arthur climbed in the back seat and Yao got in next to him. Gilbert took the driver's seat.

They were moving instantly. Arthur stifled a yelp and scrabbled for his seatbelt.

"Gilbert has his own driving rules," said Yao helpfully.

"That's not safe!" Arthur managed to splutter.

"Do you want to save your brother?" He went on before Arthur could respond. "Now we're on the road, I'll explain what's going on."

Arthur closed his mouth. An explanation was not before time.

"Gilbert and I, as you may have gathered, are not quite normal."

"Before, you said something about people being 'humans'..."

"Yes. We're not human."

Arthur stared at him. He wasn't entirely sure how to react to his statement.

Yao put his head to one side.

"Well. Not completely human. We're not completely different. We just... we live for a lot longer than others."

"How... how long?" Arthur didn't think he was going to believe this story, but he still had to ask.

"In my case? Four thousand years. I'm old, even by our standards."

Arthur stared at him. He certainly didn't _look_ old. He was a young man, like Arthur himself.

"I know that's difficult to believe, but it is true."

Arthur didn't say a word.

"We were once known to the world, and the world left us alone. But there came a time when we were forced to adopt new identities and try to blend in with the rest of society. And this worked well for some decades. Because we don't age, we had to move and reidentify ourselves every few years... but we didn't have any real problems.

"Until ten years ago. Certain people became aware of our existence. This had happened before, but not on so large a scale. It was still a minority who believed in us, but they were very vocal. And they started to get attention. Not particularly positive attention, but attention nonetheless. We moved swiftly to silence the perpetrators, but they'd already spread their information. And they had some quite convincing proof. Some people - not the majority, but a worrying number - began to wonder if there might be something in the claims. People even started looking into it. It was alarming, to say the least. Thankfully, the majority of the population laughed at them.

"However, while they publicly didn't admit it, some influential people started to believe it, people with the resources to prove it, and who were respected enough that they would be listened to. We couldn't silence them so easily. Things were on the verge of getting out of hand.

"So we had to take drastic action. Some thought we were overreacting, but our existence is not the kind of thing we can take chances on."

"Why? I'm not suggesting you should all die, but what exactly makes your life so important." Arthur was playing along now. He by no means believed this rubbish. He just wanted to see where the story went. Yes.

Yao hesitated.

"The nature... of our existence... is complicated. A lot of people depend on us living our full life course. We can never allow ourselves to be killed. And the way things were going, it looked like that may happen." He paused. "The final event that made us reach our decision proved that this was likely to happen. One of our number was captured. We got him back, of course, and made sure the kidnappers couldn't pose a threat to us again, but now we knew we had to do something.

"The problem was, these people weren't afraid to use... certain methods. And some of our number are very young, or at any rate have very young minds. Even many who don't would crack. We could adopt new identities, we could silence people all we liked, but if they found the right people, then they would have the truth. And we couldn't risk that, no matter how many precautions we could take. And so we decided to implement our emergency measures until we could be sure we had been completely forgotten."

Arthur laughed a little. It was all so ridiculous, so melodramatic, so absurd. Did Yao seriously expect him to believe this?

"On to Plan B then?"

"We were already on Plan B. This was Plan C. We gave people not just new identities, but new minds and new memories."

"That's possible."

"We are always able to obtain the most advance equipment. Some of us, of course, had to keep our memories and make sure the others were safe. Gilbert and I were two who volunteered. There have been minor incidents, but nothing serious." He looked troubled. "This is the first time we've really failed."

Arthur knew what he was going to say next. He said it for him.

"Me and Peter... we're like you? We're two of the ones who had our minds replaced?"

Yao nodded.

"Yes. And Peter's kidnappers will do anything to get the truth out of him."


	17. Chapter 17

"Well, Peter, as Stacy has already told you, some years ago the existence of certain... creatures was discovered. Immortal creatures, human in appearance. Malicious creatures. They hated humans. Or our suffering somehow amused them. I know you'll find this difficult to believe, but they were present at - and _responsible for_ - every war ever fought by mankind."

Peter snorted.

"First you make up a crazy story. Then you accuse me of not being human. _Then_ you badmouth what you say I am. I'm warming to you."

"Remember what your situation here is," she said coldly.

He closed his mouth and just glared.

"Naturally, something had to be done. Unfortunately, this truth sounding rather... fantastic, there was only a small number of people who could accomplish it, and we had no idea how many of these things there were. All we could do was try to find out more. This was not an easy task; all information on them was kept as far away from the public eye as possible, as you can imagine. After all, it's only natural such vile creatures wouldn't want to be discovered."

"I'm vile now."

"You appear to be a young one, and we can't find any evidence of your involvement in battles. Your brother, however, seems to have been very busy causing unrest."

Peter's eyes flashed and he made to stand up.

"I wouldn't, Peter. We don't want to have to hurt you."

"Yeah right. What are you planning to do then?"

"We don't want to have to hurt you unnecessarily. Now please settle down."

"Don't say stuff about my brother then!"

"Once more, I will ask you to think about where you are."

"I don't care where I am! If you say one more word about Arthur I will knock your stupid head off!"

"And then my colleagues will be forced to incapacitate you."

"That won't help you though, will it?" He knew he was spouting rubbish; there was no way he could take down a fully grown person. But she seemed to accept the threat. In fact, she even looked slightly wary. Why be scared of a twelve year old?

Oh yes, he wasn't an ordinary twelve year old, was he? How could he forget an important detail like that?

His mind flashed back. He had managed to hurt one of them. He had made them bleed.

Fluke. He knew he wouldn't be able to do it again, and unless she was completely insane - which he would agree was a strong possibility - Mrs Ratner should know it too.

Did that mean he could actually threaten them? Not much, considering there were many more of them... but it was comforting to realise they actually believed he could hurt them. Maybe if he got one of them on their own...

"Very well. I will try to refrain from incriminating your brother.

"As I was saying, we can't find out a lot about you. All we have are some old photos where you don't appear to have aged. Photos from _well_ over twelve years ago."

"That's impossible."

"Exactly."

"No, _that's impossible_. You're a liar, or your pictures are fake and you're just plain insane."

"Well you're the captive. Anyway, we looked for more information. And, amazingly, we managed to work out where a few of the creatures were. We knew that the only way to persuade people of the truth was to capture one of them and prove they weren't human."

"That sounds like the logic of a rational person."

"These creatures were abominations! We needed to expose them, however we achieved that. And we did manage to capture one. Unfortunately, before we were able to do any tests on him, the others broke into the facility, murdered all the staff, and took him away."

Peter blinked.

"Did anyone... notice this?"

"They burnt the facility to the ground. They made it look like an accident. And then they attacked us with a vengeance. People who had formerly been active in spreading the word of their existence suddenly fell silent. We had no idea whether our fellow researchers were dead or just too scared to speak up. I was, regrettably, the latter."

"That is regrettable," muttered Peter. She appear to hear.

"However, in my mind, I always knew that I would make sure the monstrosities were brought to justice.

"By the time I felt able to return to my research, three years later, pretty much all of the evidence collected had been destroyed. With much effort, however, I was able to find others like me, who knew all about the creatures. Some of them had managed to save things. The pictures. But the creatures were harder to track than ever. Eventually, we found you. Once again, through the pictures. There weren't many years between the two pictures, but you should have changed.

"So of course we knew we had to capture you. Ideally, we would have got your brother as well, but that would have made things much harder. Right now, we just need to prove you're not human, and then others will believe us and help us rid the world of these atrocities."

Peter looked at the door, wondering if he should just throw logic away and run for it right now. If he understood correctly... well he didn't _want_ to understand correctly.

_Arthur will know you're gone. Arthur will call the police, the police will come, this lunatic will be thrown in jail._

Before or after they started to 'prove' he wasn't human?

She smiled at him now, a perfectly reasonable smile that wouldn't have hinted in any way at whatever her plans for him were.

"Now then. Let's get started."


	18. Chapter 18

_Run._

Peter knew it was the only logical thing to do, but how could he?

He was being ushered down a corridor. A corridor that looked like it belonged in a hospital. They had gone down a flight of stairs, so there were no windows. No door apart from the one at the end. Two guys behind him. No way to escape.

She opened the door. Peter was shoved into the room.

He saw a chair, rather like a dentist's chair, but much harder looking. Around the sides of the room were various things. _Alarming_ things.

Peter made a decision. He didn't care how impossible escape was.

He spun round and shoved one of the guys as hard as he could. Which wasn't very. Whatever bizarre strength had come to him before wasn't for returning.

There was still no way they were getting him in that chair without a fight. He tried to run. They caught him before he was even out of the door.

"How silly, Peter. I thought you'd realised you couldn't run."

Peter kicked out at her. It had about as much effect as the shove had had. One of the guys pushed him down in the chair. They pressed down his arms and pulled straps across them. His legs got the same treatment. Peter screamed, even though he knew there was no one around to help him. They gagged him anyway.

"Now now, Peter. We're not going to hurt you just yet. We just need to do some tests and take a few samples."

_Samples?_ What was _that_supposed to mean? And how had it gone from not hurting him "unnecessarily" to simply not hurting him "yet"?

She picked up a needle, and, smiling, jabbed it into his arm. There was no attempt to convince him it wouldn't hurt; in fact she seemed to be actively trying to make it hurt more than it had to. Peter gritted his teeth as best he could. He wasn't going to even try and scream for this. He continued to struggle. He wasn't making this easy for them. Easier.

"There. Now why did that deserve such a fuss?"

_Why the fuss?_ She had his blood!

OK... now she was swinging round a white, ceiling attached device that seemed to belong in an opticians'. The chair moved suddenly, forcing him into a more upright sitting position. Mrs Ratner positioned the device in front of his eyes. Peter squeezed his eyes shut.

"Oh come on, that's just silly. Don't make us force you now."

"The coin. What's the coin?"

Arthur knew there were a thousand more important questions if he was going to believe this insanity, and no point in asking any if he wasn't - which he wasn't. But that damn coin... every time he touched it in his pocket, he just... _believed_ this person.

"The coin is a trust token. In case of an event like this, each of you gave us one. Something different for each, of course; something that meant something to you. When we reworked your minds, we made sure that the production of that item would inspire your trust. Otherwise, how could anyone possibly believe us?

This was absurd, but the fact remained that the coin _was_ making Arthur trust them. Even as he tried his hardest not to.

"What is it? I mean... what exactly?"

"You really are a different person if you can't recognise your own plunder."

"_Plunder?_ What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Judging from the fact you're here it's doing its job."

Arthur shook his head.

"I don't believe it. It can't be true. It just can't be."

Yao shrugged.

"Whether it's true or not... they believe it is. And they have your brother."

Arthur closed his eyes.

"How far away are we?"

"We're close," said Gilbert, who had apparently been listening in, from the front.

"Do you believe me, Arthur?" said Yao. Arthur opened his eyes and saw him staring straight into his face. "Honestly?"

"I... I... I don't know..."

He didn't know. No... he did. He believed the story. It was absurd, but...

But he knew it couldn't be true.

He believed something that he knew wasn't true. He didn't want to believe it - it defied every bit of logic in his mind. But that stupid coin... it was forcing him.

"I have to tell you; you may have to make a sacrifice if you want to save your brother."

"Nothing is worth as much as Peter."

"I'm glad you feel that way. I told you how most of us changed who we were, became new people. And I meant completely new. It required giving up all past thoughts, traits, memories. The loss of memories would not be required were the process to be undone, but the others would be."

Arthur stared at him.

"You may not really be a human, and you may believe me, but as long as you are Arthur you will still be human at heart. Restrictions were placed on you, on your strength. They're only mental, but as long as you think like a human, they will work on you. If you want the best chance of rescuing your brother, we will have to remove them."

"Remove..."

"Arthur... in a sense... you may have to die."


	19. Chapter 19

"Die...?"

"Only in a sense. Your body would still be alive."

"But there would be a different person in it."

Yao nodded. He looked deadly serious, completely earnest. He was definitely, at least as far as he was concerned, telling the truth.

"But it won't necessarily come to that. Gilbert and I should be strong enough by ourselves. I just felt I should warn you now. I understand you would need to think about it."

"What will happen," said Arthur, "When we save him? If they know who we are, what can we do."

Yao looked away.

"We will handle that."

The car stopped.

"I'm not taking the car any closer," said Gilbert.

"We're here?"

"Arthur, it's likely we'll be able to get Peter out of there with you as you are. But in case we can't..." Yao slipped something from his pocket and pressed it into his hand. A metal... capsule sort of thing.

"If you get into a situation you can't get out of, twist it from the middle. It doesn't matter which way. It will restore your original mind and memories."

Arthur must have gone white or something, because he hastily went on.

"I'm not saying you will have to, but it's an option you need to have. Just keep it very, _very_ safe."

Arthur decided that he absolutely could not believe _that_. But he put it in his pocket and zipped it up all the same. He could take it just to make Yao feel better, he reasoned.

Alright, he was going to admit to himself that he had no idea what he did and did not believe anymore.

"What's the plan?" he asked.``

"Nothing yet," said Gilbert. "Generally, the procedure is to go in _then_ work out what to do."

"And... that works?"

"Usually. It helps that we're stronger than humans, have spent a lot of our lives fighting, and me and Yao have been on guard duty for a decade now. Unless there's a ridiculous amount of people, we can usually beat them."

"And if there is a ridiculous amount of people?"

"That's when you restore your memories."

"Couldn't you try to think up a better plan?"

"Well we don't know what's going on yet, do we? We don't know if your brother's locked up, guarded, if he's launching his own escape attempt... If we make a plan we'll only end up changing it when we realise it's completely useless."

"And... you've survived centuries on that policy?"

"No. Well, I've never been as bothered with detail as some, but it's only our current situation that really called for this attack method."

Arthur looked at Yao.

"Well, he's right. We can't make a proper plan until we have details."

"How do you know there'll be time to make a plan if we just go straight in?"

"We don't. Which is why you'll need this." Gilbert pulled out a gun from... somewhere and passed it to Arthur. "I doubt you can remember holding one but I'm sure you can work it out."

Arthur frowned. He turned the gun over in his hands. He would rather not shoot people. Although, if it was that or lose Peter, then he would have to get over it. He nodded.

"I'll manage."

Gilbert opened his door and got out of the car. Arthur and Yao followed suit. Arthur found himself in a bush. Yao took hold of his wrist and led him through the leaves, until they could see something else. The something else in question was a beautiful country house, which hadn't been at the top of Arthur's subconscious 'list of things to expect'. It looked pretty secure, which was on the list.

"How are we going to get in?"

Gilbert sprung into action and was running before the sentence was fully out of his mouth. Yao yanked Arthur after him. Clearly, they were going for the subtle approach.

Yao dragged Arthur to a window while Gilbert threw himself at the door. To his astonishment, Arthur heard the wood splinter. He didn't have too much time to think about this as Yao was launching a similar attack on the window.

How were they going to make a plan if they were apart? Arthur just had time to think this before Yao somehow managed to... lift him, almost, through the broken window after himself. There were alarms going now. He didn't have time to take in the room they had climbed into because Yao was rushing out, and Arthur felt he should follow him.

People appeared as they emerged into a passage. Yao took them down with shocking speed.

"Come on," he said, continuing down the passage. "Let's find your brother."


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note: Oh dear. I appear to be suffering from an endless supply of villains. I'll try not to do that so much in future.**

Alarms went off.

Peter's first reaction was relief, as Mrs Ratner moved away. Then he thought that alarms were not generally a good thing to be hearing.

And then again, this wasn't his building, and so the alarms were more likely to be bad for his kidnappers.

Unless it was a fire or something... and he was strapped to a chair.

Maybe someone had come to save him? He would believe that until he had proof to the contrary.

Mrs Ratner was now barking orders into a phone. She shut up, hung up, and turned back to Peter. The men had gone.

"Just a minor distraction. We'll be able to get back on track in a short time."

Peter wriggled in the chair.

_Please please please. Someone come save me._

She seemed to read his mind.

"Don't get your hopes up, Peter. Even if someone has come for you, they will be over-"

Her eyes suddenly widened and she fell silent, before crashing to the floor. Peter followed her fall, then looked back up again.

Gilbert was stood before him. He held a knife. Bloodstained. He swept it through the straps that held Peter down. Peter scrambled to his feet, pulling out the gag.

"Come on," said Gilbert. Now Peter looked properly, he saw the man had clearly fought his way here. He grabbed Peter's arm and ran out of the room.

"Just stay behind me and don't let them catch you."

Peter nodded, not sure how he would obey the second order if several people came after him again, but knowing he would try to use sheer willpower if it came down to it.

There were bodies in the corridor. Peter stumbled slightly at the sight of them. Gilbert pulled on his arm, and he tore his eyes away and focused on running.

"Where... are we...?"

"We're just getting away from here. Don't waste energy."

Peter took his advice and shut up. And ran some more.

* * *

Arthur and Yao had fought their way through to the first floor. Well, Yao had fought, Arthur had just followed him through. There hadn't been a massive amount of people - more than would have seemed strictly necessary, but it wasn't just a constant stream.

They had reached a lull in proceedings when Yao pulled what looked like a very small mobile from his pocket.

"Gilbert's found him," he said after a moment. "He's got him out."

Arthur's heart leapt.

"He's safe?"

"As safe as he will be here. We can't leave just yet though."

"Why not?"

"We need to deal with this place. But there's decent reason to believe there's an innocent in here, and we need to find her first."

Arthur wasn't sure how to feel about this, but he wasn't going to argue about saving an innocent, even if he decided he wanted to.

"Just stay close behind me, and we'll be out of here as quick as we can be."

"Do you have any idea where...?"

"Well we've checked all the doors we've passed, and we should be able to tell where Gilbert's been. Just come on." He set off again at a run, and Arthur hurried after him.

They didn't find whoever they were looking for quickly. Arthur wanted to give up, run back to the car and make sure his brother really was there, but his common sense was still there to tell him that there was no way he would be able to fight people off the way Yao had.

They went up a staircase. Yao checked each door as they passed. They were all unlocked... until the last one. When Yao tried it they heard the faint sound of someone moving.

"Keep an eye out," he ordered Arthur. Arthur did as he said. He walked to one end of the corridor as Yao moved towards the door with a determined look on his face.

As always, he didn't go for subtlety, preferring to simply smash the door to pieces. Arthur walked back down the corridor to check the other side. If the innocent _was_ in that room then they were most likely terrified right now.

There was a final loud _crack _that sounded different to the rest. Arthur looked round to see Yao rush inside the room. He went to the door.

It was a small, bare, slightly dirty room. In one corner was a bed, opposite it a cupboard. And cowering as far as the door as she could get was a teenage girl. Yao stepped forwards.

"We're not going to hurt you," he said. "You have to come with us."

"Where's my guardian?" blurted the girl. Yao didn't answer that.

"You have to come with us," he repeated.

The girl made no move to move towards him. Yao moved forwards quite suddenly and grabbed her arms. She stared at him, apparently too scared to speak or cry out.

"It's not an option," said Yao. "You're coming with us."

"Where's my guardian?"

Yao moved forwards again, blocking Arthur's view, but when he turned around he was holding the unconscious girl.

"She'll be OK," he said, seeing Arthur's horrified expression. "We didn't have time to waste dragging her along. Now we have to get out of here as quickly as possible." He somehow managed to set off at a run, if not as fast as he had been before. Arthur went after him. They reached the staircase, ran down the corridors scattered with bodies, and after what seemed like forever got to the stairs down to the ground floor. Even with the girl, Yao was still faster, and reached the top a few seconds before Arthur.

And Arthur found his way suddenly blocked by the biggest man he had ever seen. He looked behind him. There were two more. They had appeared so suddenly and silently... judging from the lack of noise from him, Yao hadn't noticed them yet.

Arthur made a feeble attempt to push his way past, and failed miserably and embarrassingly. A large part of him wanted to scream for Yao, and he wasn't entirely sure why he wasn't following that instinct.

He heard him. Some distance away. Yelling. Was he yelling because Arthur was surrounded... or because something had happened to him?

So... so what did he do?

He started to back away as the men in front moved closer. Stopped as he remembered the one behind. And his hand brushed his pocket. The pocket with the coin in. He remembered what was in the other pocket.

Stupid. It was all rubbish. Had to be. No matter what that coin told him.

Then... why should he be so scared to try it?

Peter was out of danger. He was supposed to use it if he needed to to save his brother. There was nothing about saving himself in there.

Well, that was ridiculous reasoning.

Arthur unzipped his pocket. In one deft movement, that he hoped they wouldn't notice.

They did, of course.

"What are you getting out?" demanded one of the ones in front. "Hand it over."

Arthur slowly pulled out the silver cylinder. The man made a grab for it but he was able to pull it away.

No time for hesitation. Either he did it now, or it was taken from him.

Arthur seized the cylinder in both hands and twisted.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note: Sorry it took so long, and I'm aware it doesn't really continue the story, but hopefully it does contribute something. If it doesn't, then I apologise again. The story will be back on track in the next chapter.**

It was... there was nothing he would ever be able to compare it to. A sudden torrent of memories, forcing their way into his mind. Arthur dropped the cylinder.

He remembered... he remembered his childhood.

But it wasn't a mere fifteen, twenty years ago. This was... over...

This was before the year one thousand.

No...

He was a small boy, wearing a black cloak, watching as his home was taken over by strange men. Repeatedly. And there was nothing he - puny little him - could do to stop them. He felt a wave of anguish wash over him, like nothing he had ever felt before. Years were flashing by, his home was being changed, his siblings - he had siblings? Yes, and they hated him now. He was alone, he was helpless.

There were others... like him... they came, but all they really wanted was to control him. He knew that. Even the one... a boy with long hair, not much older than himself. But even he felt he should control him.

But he learnt to fight back, eventually. And he was angry. He felt a shiver of pure fury. Centuries were slipping by, and now he was one of the strong people, and now he would make sure everyone knew they couldn't treat him that way anymore.

Certain memories leapt out at him.

A child. Gazing at him with trusting eyes. With love in his eyes, something no-one had looked at him with for a very long time. What? Arthur didn't feel unloved... but he reached out and took the boy's hand. This wasn't Arthur reaching out, but someone else entirely, the person who was rushing back into his mind, forcing his memories to fill their head, his feelings. Arthur... he wasn't slipping away exactly... but he was definitely being overpowered. And... and he knew that was right. The other consciousness had been here long before him. It seemed to linger on the memory of the boy.

And then time was moving again.

A rainy day. Arthur felt a wave of pain crash over him. Bewilderment... then anger. Pure fury. The boy. A man now. And Arthur hated him right now. And he wasn't letting him go. Arthur was scared. This anger was something he could never imagine... what was this other person in his head capable of?

No. He had thrown down his weapon. And now the grief was back.

What kind of life had this person had?

Time was moving again. Arthur felt a coldness grip his heart. He didn't care. He didn't care who suffered, he didn't care about anyone or anything. He wasn't going to give a damn about _anyone_. He didn't care if he was going to be the bad guy.

Then... no. He seemed to be... cooling?

He had to fight on the right side now, regardless of how much he hated everyone. For himself. Yes. He was not helping others for the sake of it. This was what was best for him.

Wait... what? That was... absurd. Why couldn't this person help others?

The other mind pushed at him, seeming almost to react to Arthur's critical thoughts.

Fighting. Pain, physical, exploding within him. Couldn't give up... never... _never_. Keep fighting. Just keep fighting. All your life... and there were so many people... depending on him...

A boy's face flashed before him. He didn't say a word, and his dark eyes betrayed nothing, but Arthur knew he had failed the child.

_No, __**I**__ only failed Peter._

The other mind seemed to like this thought just as little as he did, as it started pushing harder, forcing Arthur's thoughts aside. Arthur considered resisting. He knew that this mind was stronger, he knew it was going to take over… but maybe he could hang on for a few more seconds?

_I twisted that cylinder for a reason._

Yes. He's agreed to this already. There was no point having second thoughts now.

At the thought a thousand more memories rushed into his head. And now they came nearly to their end, sharply focused. He could see everything exactly as it happened…

"_We can't go on like this."_

_Arthur was in a room with a handful of other people. Mostly they were smartly dressed; this was a meeting after all. Except for the young woman sat huddled on a chair, her mid length hair falling out of its headband. Her head was buried in her arms and she was shaking._

"_We're lucky it was only Belgium," Arthur – this other person – was saying. "Some of us would have been _

_**Myself likely included,**__ he thought._

"_We should take this as a warning. I think… I think this may be the time…" His voice trailed off. He couldn't finish._

_A stern looking man with blond hair and blue eyes nodded._

"_I have to agree. This is getting out of hand. We could do with a few years to be forgotten about."_

_**A few years.**__ They all knew that if things went wrong they would be stuck in the recesses of another person's mind for the rest of their lives, which could well be eternity, or close enough to it._

_None of them knew exactly how the personality change would work. Whether they would be conscious of the new mind or whether they would simply disappear. And they didn't know for sure if the restorers would even work._

_Then of course, there was the question of who would stay behind. Someone had to, to get the restorer's to the others and keep an eye on the humans who had discovered them._

_A man immediately stood up. Yao. China. Arthur accepted this without a second thought._

"_I will stay behind," he said._

"_Are you sure? You have a lot of –"_

"_I'm four thousand years old. Someone has to stay back. I'll do it."_

_He wasn't going to shift on the matter. They all nodded._

_"We'll have to call a full world meeting," said the stern looking man. "Everyone will have to be there. Micronations, territories, those who are usually represented by others. No-one is safe here."_

_Everyone nodded. They began to disperse, to spread the news. Arthur was already listing the people he had to tell. His brothers, of course, those still under his care, and..._

_He faltered a little in his step as another face appeared in his mind. The youngest member of his large family. He hadn't thought of him at all..._

_**I need to stay with him.**_

_The thought was absolutely certain. Well, someone had to look after him, of course, and it would be bad for everyone - including himself - if anyone was captured._

_Yes._

_Things started to flash by again._

_It was the world meeting. He had never seen everyone gathered together in one place like this. And he didn't know where his little brother was. He had come separately. With his... father, if he must insist on calling him that. But he couldn't stay with him as a human. They looked nothing alike, and they would be speaking different languages. Unknown to his brother, they had already agreed on the phone that Arthut would have him._

_Another person came forwards to stay. Gilbert. Prussia?_

_"I don't have a real role anymore," he shrugged. "Even my replacement role is gone now."_

_They were doing it now. Everyone was saying their goodbyes. There were tears. His brother was by his side. Peter... Sealand... he didn't even know what he was calling the child anymore._

_And it was time. The last thing he remembered was clinging to his brother. And a flash of light._

__

_

* * *

_

The memories had gone by in an instant of real time. The man who had been Arthur Kirkland looked at the faces of his attackers. He could feel anger rising within him. These people had tried to kill them, forced them into hiding, and then taken his brother anyway.

Now it was England's turn to attack.

**Author's Note: Most of the references will hopefully make sense? The dark eyes boy is Hong Kong, which is a reference to the Battle of Hong Kong in WW2, which I had to include a reference to after reading an absolutely beautiful fanfic about it (it's in my favourites list, which is very short, so easy to find, if anyone's interested). If there's any other references that I should have explained then tell me and I'll add it.**


	22. Chapter 22

England took the stairs two at a time. He was quite amazed at how quickly he was able to slip back into the use of his limbs. It helped that the replacement personality had moved aside for him without much fuss. He was aware that Arthur had been a lot nicer than him. The mind replacement had turned out to mean he pretty much died for the time it was in place, but Arthur's memories were still floating around in his mind, which was... odd. Particularly considering he had got four different lives worth.

They had set them to cycles. Since they didn't tend to age, they would have to restart every few years. The average agreed upon had been five years, but because of Sealand's appearance, he and England were set to three years. At the end of each cycle, their memories would be wiped, and China and Prussia would see to it that they were relocated. But anyway, none of that mattered right now. He had taken the information he needed from Arthur's memories and now he pushed the rest to one side. He wasn't at his best yet, but he had been able to take the men down. Not quite with the ease that China seemed to manage, but then he'd quite probably been in practise for the last decade. Honestly, it was probably the 'less nice' than Arthur thing which had given England the greater advantage, rather than the extra strength, although that had definitely helped.

Well, China seemed to manage with ease. There were sounds of a struggle coming from the bottom of the stairs. England jumped down the last step. More of them. China was struggling. He was still holding the girl, which accounted for it.

England grabbed one of the men and yanked him away. The man, caught off-guard, didn't resist. England put a hand to his head and smashed it against the wall. The man fell to the floor, unconscious. He caught China's eye as he moved back, and saw immediate recognition.

England quickly - well, it had to be quick - decided that he'd be more helpful taking the girl. He ducked round one of the remaining attackers, and China, understanding immediately passed her to him.

OK... now how did England...?

Oh, China had his arms free now. The men didn't take long to start losing.

"Run!" snapped China at England. He nodded and took the first route that was free. He was out of the front door only seconds before China.

"You remember where the car is?"

"Yes. I have all his memories."

"Good. I'm actually quite glad you're back. The next bit should be easier with three of us."

They reached the car. China pulled open the back seat door and shoved England inside.

"Arthur!"

Sea… Peter. He was still Peter. He was already in the back seat and he made to hug him. England tensed a little, but thankfully he paused, staring at the girl.

"Stacy? Why do you...?"

"You two stay here."

Prussia. He and China were running off back towards the building.

"What are they doing?" asked Peter.

England could guess at what they were going to do, but he was sure he didn't want to tell Peter.

"Are you OK?" he asked instead.

"Yeah... I'm fine..."

"Did they... did they do anything to you?"

"No! Gilbert found me before anything happened."

"Good." A pause. "I'm glad you're safe."

He knew even as he said it that Arthur would at this point have been crying tears of relief and embracing his brother... well, he still had the girl, so there was an excuse not to hug him. Maybe he should make himself cry? No, too late for that now. Peter didn't seem to have noticed anything off just yet.

"Why do you have Stacy?"

England now knew full well why they had Stacy, but he still didn't intend on explaining that. He opened his mouth, his mind racing, when there was a sudden surge of light from the direction of the building. England looked round to see China and Prussia running back.

"What's that?" Peter's eyes were wide.

China and Prussia climbed back in, China taking the passenger seat this time, and Prussia set off at a speed that seemed crazy even considering his past driving. Peter gasped as he caught sight of the tower of flames that had taken over the building.

"Fire service will be on their way," said Prussia, noticing. "It won't spread."

"But what about...?"

"They kidnapped you, they probably would have killed you."

England reached out a hand and touched his brother's hand. He opened his mouth to say it was OK, then thought better of it.

"They saved Stacy," he said eventually, which was feeble but all he could really say.

"Can you make her look like she fell asleep in the car?" asked China. "We'll reach a busier road soon."

England nodded. He set the girl down gently on the middle seat and buckled the seat belt round her, before pulling on his own. Peter did likewise. Aside from the being seen thing, neither of them trusted Prussia's driving.

"Where are we going now?" asked England.

"To somewhere that should be safe. Those are unlikely to have been the only people involved in this. We need to track down any others."

No-one had to ask what would happen then.


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note: Sorry if this isn't very good, I'm having difficulty writing this part. My uploads, I'm aware, are less frequent than they were at the start, and until I reach a bit of the story that I find easier to write that won't improve, but I'm going to try not to have too much time between uploads. Also, I'm aware the story might seem like it's dragging; there's still quite a bit more to go, but I'm getting onto the final phase of it. Thanks for sticking with it so far. This chapter seemed like an appropriate place to put this message.**

**

* * *

**

They drove for hours. Twice, they changed cars, Prussia and China having left vehicles in secure places.

"Just between your home and our main place in this country," China told him.

England nodded, although he knew full well it wasn't _his_ home. He half-wished Arthur had managed to work out a way out that didn't involve bringing him back. He was glad to be awake again after a decade, but now he was at some point going to have to explain to Peter that his brother was, effectively, dead.

No. He didn't relish that prospect at all.

Logically, that shouldn't scare him as much as how many potential enemies there were still to find... but it was a thousand times worse than that.

The girl came round after a while. She looked round at who was in the car with her and didn't say a word.

They also had to explain to her that her guardian was now absolutely dead.

Who was the girl? She spoke about her 'guardian', which made England think that she didn't have parents... and now they'd killed whatever replacement she had. And he couldn't help feeling a bit guilty, even if it hadn't been him and those people had had to go.

Actually… what was the plan now? They could see if the girl had any information, but what then? They'd agreed not to kill innocents a decade ago, and Prussia and China were apparently still sticking to that.

They could work that out later. Maybe they already had a plan; England suspected he may have some stuff to catch up on.

They eventually pulled up on the back street of a row of terraces in a city – England knew he should know which one, but he really hadn't been keeping track of where they were going. China ushered them out and Prussia drove off somewhere.

"Quickly." China led them into one of the houses. The girl still didn't say a word, but did as he said.

"I think Peter should go for a sleep now," said China to England once they were inside. Peter opened his mouth to protest but England nodded before he could.

"Yes. I think so too."

"Just put him in any of the bedrooms."

England nodded again.

"Come on, Peter."

Peter looked at Stacy, who had pure terror on her face by now.

"He won't hurt her." England wasn't entirely sure of the truth of that, but he felt the need to reassure the boy.

"Are you...?"

"Yes, I'm sure." He steered him out of the room before he could ask any more questions. Once they were in the passage, Peter turned to him, frowning.

"Arthur, are you...?"

"I'm fine, Peter. I was... I've been really worried. You really do need to rest."

Peter suddenly flung his arms round his waist. England froze. He quickly got his sense together and hugged him back, but Peter had already noticed.

"Arthur...?"

"You really need to rest."

Peter frowned deeper, but allowed him to steer him upstairs.

They found a small room with little more than the bed in it, and Peter climbed in. It was obvious he didn't want to, but as far as he was concerned he was still talking to his big brother who he knew knew best for him. England tucked him in. Arthur hadn't done that... ever, really, but it made him feel better and considering the circumstances it was excusable.

"Arthur, what is actually going on? I mean... I get that those people think we're these weird... things... but why?"

"I... I don't know. Go to sleep now. You must be tired."

"I... I'm sorry for... for running off..."

"Forget about it. You were upset."

Peter opened his mouth to speak again, but a yawn took over.

"I am tired," he mumbled. "I don't know how I can sleep though..."

"Just try."

"What's going to happen now?"

"I don't know yet. We'll think of something."

"What's happening with Stacy?"

"I don't know. But Ch... Yao won't hurt her. He made sure he saved her."

"They killed the rest of them though, didn't they?" said Peter, thankfully not seeming to notice England's slip.

"They wouldn't have done it if they didn't have to. And they did have to. Otherwise they would have come after us again."

"Yes, but..."

England hugged him. It seemed an appropriate thing to do and it made Peter fall silent.

"Everything's going to be OK," he whispered. "Just trust me, OK?"

"I trust you, Arthur."

Eventually, Peter fell asleep. England stayed, looking at him, and a thought he had been trying to suppress pushed its way to the forefront of his mind.

_This isn't my little brother._

But... yes... yes he was. He was Arthur's little brother... and though Arthur wasn't there anymore... England could still feel his love for this boy. He still had his memories, and Peter still felt like his brother.

But his real little brother was somewhere in Peter's mind. Existing only in the strange dreams he had so often told Arthur about. England didn't want to kill the Peter personality, but... well, despite what a brat he was, how much he had hated him, and was just a general nuisance... he wanted his real little brother too.

He shook his head.

_Think about that later._

At that moment he felt something... tugging at him. Back downstairs. England frowned, almost grateful for the diversion from his thoughts. What...?

He paled. Oh no. That was an emergency measure. Things must be bad.

Without another thought, he left the room and hurried downstairs.


	24. Chapter 24

Prussia was back when England got back downstairs. The girl, Stacy, was nowhere to be seen.

"I told him," said China.

"You activated -"

"Yes. This thing is big. We're going to need backup."

England felt a sinking feeling inside him.

"How big?"

"We need to take out several more facilities."

"We can't kill that many people without being noticed."

"We were thinking we could use the mind changer on some of the less dangerous ones," said Prussia. England frowned.

"Are we sure humans could stand it?"

"No. But we can't just let them run free."

"No." England knew he was right about that. "When do we expect the others to get here?"

"As soon as they felt the tug they'll have started trying to get here. China is going to get the memories and trust tokens."

England didn't ask where they were. It had been agreed that only these two would know that.

"Speaking of trust tokens," said China, "I have Sealand's." He held out a hat, and England felt a pang. "You might need it."

"Yes..." England took the hat. He wondered how he would hide it from Peter. OK, so he wouldn't guess what it was for, but he'd probably be a bit curious. Logically, it didn't matter, and actually it would be easier if he just gave it to him as soon, but he'd rather not _force_ trust if he could help it.

What _were_ they going to do with him?

Or, for that matter...

"Where's the girl?"

"She's in one of the rooms," said China. "She's locked in but unharmed. We gave her some food, and got her to tell us some things."

"What are we going to do about her?"

"Once this is over, we can arrange something. Until then, we just need to make sure she doesn't get back to the others. We'll have to keep an eye on her for the rest of her life, of course, as well as any we don't kill, but that's unavoidable."

"How do you think a little girl like that got involved with those people in the first place?" mused Prussia.

"She called the woman her guardian…" said England. He felt… sorry for anyone who would end up with _that_ for a guardian. And the instant he thought that he was drenched with fear, sickening sorrow… denial? He looked up; it was strange, but the feelings seemed to have a direction…

Oh…

China sighed.

"I know you haven't been back long, England, but you can't have forgotten such an important rule. If they're _your_ citizens, then you _can_ feel their pain, so don't think about it."

"Yes, thank you," said England through gritted teeth. "I remember that now." He forced the girl and whatever hardships she may have faced from his mind, and the pain eased.

"You didn't return in the most favourable circumstances," went on China, "And there are still… complications." He glanced at the ceiling. "However, we need you to be on top form."

"Yes, I'll be fine. Shouldn't we start preparing for the others?"

"Yes." China stood up. "I'm going to go get the stuff now. Don't let anything happen while I'm gone."

He left.

"I think you should rest," said Prussia. "You've had a long day… and a lot of stuff happen to you. And you spent a lot of the time as a human."

"Yes," said England. "Maybe I should rest… but what about you?"

"I'll be fine," said Prussia. "I can sleep really lightly now, so I'll stay down here. You go find asomewhere to sleep."

"Yes… thank you, Prussia."

"For…?"

"For looking after us. All this time."

Prussia shrugged.

"Someone had to do it."

"Yes… Call me down if anything happens."

"Yeah."

England went upstairs and found another bedroom. As he drifted off, he thought about the agreement they had made, all those years ago…

* * *

_"We can handle it, guys," said Prussia._

_"There's two of you," said Germany. "You can only handle so much. You need to be able to call for back up."_

_"Yeah!" enthused America. "You need any help, you can call on me! Even as a human, I could still be a hero!"_

_England sighed. He was trying to work out if America genuinely hadn't realised the severity of the situation, or if he was a better actor than England had thought._

"_Germany is right," said England. "One day, something might happen, and you might need our help."_

"_You need to promise us you'll bring us back if anything major happens," said France._

"_Right... fine," said China. "We're not stupid. If we need help, we'll bring some nations back to help us."_

"_Let's all sign a document," said Japan. "Agreeing to help if we're needed."_

_The other nations present agreed, and a document was drawn up._

"_How many should sign it?" questioned Russia._

"_Everyone present who wants to sign it should," said Germany. "Then we'll think of who else to ask."_

_Of course, everyone present did agree to sign it. Even if any of them did have doubts, no-one would want to look lik a coward here._

_England took the pen when it was his turn and prepared to sign. He paused._

"_Wait a minute," he said. "We'll be scattered all over the world. You can't come and look for us all if there's serious danger."_

_There was a moment's silence. Someone swore._

"_That is a problem..." murmured France._

"_Couldn't we... go to them?" suggested America._

"_How would we know to?"_

"_Couldn't they... call us... or something?"_

_England was about to explain to America why that idea was idiotic when Russia spoke up._

"_That... could work."_

_Well, it was typical that **he** would say that, wasn't it?_

"_How do you mean?" asked Germany._

"_Isn't there some way we could make it so we went to them?"_

"_Is that –?"_

"_I should be able to put something together," said Japan. "I may need a while, though…"_

"_It will take us a while to sort everyone out," said Germany. "What do you have in mind?"_

"_A device that will call to us, even as humans. If China or Prussia triggered it, anyone who had agreed to it would be forced to make their way to them, even as a human."_

"_You think you can make that?"_

"_I believe I can."_

_Japan could. And it was settled._


	25. Chapter 25

Francis Bonnefoy stepped off the train. He didn't know what had compelled him to come here, but it had been far too strong to ignore. So he had come to England as soon as he could and got the train here. Now his feet carried him down the platform. They knew where he was going even if his mind didn't.

A man stepped in front of him. A few years younger than himself, with untidy blond hair, green eyes, and extremely prominent eyebrows.

"You need to come with me," he said, in French, but heavily accented.

"Who are you?" asked Francis, frowning. He was sure he knew this person.

"My name is Arthur Kirkland. I can't tell you exactly who I am, and you wouldn't believe me if I did. But I have this."

He held out a rose, gripping it by the tips of his fingers.

"Wha -?" Francis took the rose. It was artificial. He tightened his grip on it, feeling a sudden and forceful need to listen to this person.

"Will you come with me?"

"Yes… but where are we going?"

"Just follow me."

England didn't want to deal with questions from the man. It was bad enough that when France woke up he would know England spoke French, it was bad enough that he was the one who had to go meet him in the first place. The sooner he got France back and didn't have to explain things, the better.

_Show some compassion,_ said a stern voice in his head. _You are about to kill this guy._

England would rather not put it that way. He was returning the rightful personality to control, and he was doing it because they needed help. As soon as he got them somewhere private, he would be returning France's mind. He had to hurry anyway; he had other people to meet and return. He had noted abandoned looking house on his way here, and made a way in.

They walked away from the train station. What exactly, wondered England, was the best way to break this to him? He wasn't good at being sensitive and kind.

Oh whatever, then. He wouldn't be told sensitively. The end result was the same.

_Plus_, added a now justifying voice in his head, _Arthur had a very good reason to change back. Francis has no reason._

That was an excellent point. They reached the building. England looked round, then beckoned Francis to follow him.

"Er... is that legal?"

"No. Come on."

He clearly didn't want to, but the trust token wouldn't let him do anything _but_ what England said, so he reluctantly followed him inside.

England pulled out the cylinder.

"Now... this may sound a bit..." He trailed off. No, he didn't have the faintest idea what to say.

"Yes?"

England tried again.

"Hypothetical situation. If you had promised to help someone, and doing so involved a great sacrifice, would you do so?"

Francis was taken aback.

"If I had promised..."

"What if you couldn't remember making the promise? Or the people you made it to? And if you had changed so much since making the promise you weren't the same person anymore?"

Why was he bothering with this? France had signed his name, therefore England was allowed to bring him back. He guessed he'd like to have... something from this guy though.

"Well... if you could prove I'd said something... then I would have to."

England sighed. He felt he should obtain further permission, but he didn't think he had the ability to get it. He held out the cylinder.

"What is that?"

"I'm... sorry... about this."

"About...?"

England turned the cylinder the right way, closed his eyes and turned away, and pressed the button.

There was a moment's silence. Then...

"England?"

He looked back.

"France?"

France looked around, down at himself. He looked up as he remembered the deal they had made.

"What... what's happened?"

"I'll tell you when we get somewhere safer."

France nodded. He suddenly smiled.

"What?" said England sharply.

"I didn't know you spoke –"

"Shut up! Come on. This is serious."

* * *

Prussia checked his watch. Again.

"Where are you, little brother?" he muttered. If he had got the first flight over here then he should have arrived by now.

_Planes can be late,_ he reminded himself. Yeah, he was making a fuss over nothing. It was just... his brother... the first time in a decade...

His heart stopped as the familiar figure appeared. He stepped forwards, raising a hand.

"Ludwig!" he called softly.

Ludwig looked round, confused, until his eyes fell on the white haired man. He walked over, frowning.

"Am I here to meet you?" he asked, in English. Prussia replied in German.

"Yes. You are. You have to come with me." He held out the black glove that acted as his brother's trust token. That was West all over; while others had chosen things with value to them, he had chosen something everyday which they wouldn't look too conspicuous carrying around.

Ludwig took the glove and nodded.

"Lead the way."

Prussia was relieved. He turned and walked away, hearing the other man's footsteps behind him. He walked into the town, waited until they were away from other people, then tugged Ludwig into an alley.

"You're being very calm," he said. Ludwig shrugged.

"I can't fight whatever it is that pulled me here. And I recognise you... from somewhere. I think I should trust you."

Prussia smiled.

"Yeah, you should trust me. You do know me. You've always trusted me."

"What is going on?"

"I... I'm going to have to do something to you in a minute. And... uh... I'm afraid you're not going to be you anymore, after."

"What?"

"We need your help. You – sort of – agreed to give us your help. You won't remember, but you did."

"Who are you?" asked Ludwig, still amazingly calm but with some worry betraying itself in his voice now.

"My name is Gilbert. Well... you're going to know me by that name for a few more minutes. The thing is... you're not really supposed to be here."

"Then why were you there to meet me?"

"No, I mean... you should be a different person. And we – me and my... friends – need the right person back."

Ludwig stared at him for a moment. Then he nodded.

"I don't know what's going on here," he said, "But something brought me here, something is making me trust you. I've already gone against logic by listening to those. Now I've chosen to follow that course I should follow it through."

Prussia was surprised. And relieved. Good. He wasn't being difficult. Prussia pulled out the cylnder which had his brother's mind in it.

"You should prepare yourself," he said.

"Please. Just get whatever you're doing over with."

Prussia bit his lip. He pressed the button and closed his eyes. There was a pause.

"Brother?"

Prussia flung his arms round his neck. The newly awakened Germany seemed aslightly taken aback, but didn't push him away.

"Prussia," he said quietly. "You said you needed help, and you must do if you woke me."

"Yes," said Prussia, stepping away. "Come on. We have to go meet some people."

* * *

It didn't take much to spot him in the crowds. He seemed quite calm, smiling pleasantly, and for once the smile didn't send a shiver down China's spine.

He gripped the cylinder in his pocket. He was scared of doing this. He had done something very risky; he had meddled with it. How could he return Ivan to the twisted mind he had had before? But... he had no idea how successful he had been.

China waited until the platform had mostly cleared, then stepped towards him.

"Ivan."

He looked at him.

"Do I know you?"

"Sort of... I need you to come with me."

"I'm sorry," said Ivan politely, "But I don't know who you are."

"My name is Yao. You're here to meet me."

"How do I know that? All I know is that something called me here. I don't know if you're the reason, or if that is a good thing."

China held out the trust token. The scarf. Of course he had chosen that. Ivan took it, stared at it for a moment, then wound it round his neck.

"OK," he said. "I'll come with you."

"Thank you."

China led him away from the other people.

"Now," he started, "This may be difficult to explain. We – myself and my companions – need your help."

"Why?"

"We – and you – are part of a group of people who are being... hunted, to put it simply. We need to stop the hunters before they catch us."

Ivan raised an eyebrow.

"Me? Why would anyone be hunting me?"

"Because... you're not who you think you are. I need to make you remember. If any of us are captured, it will have devastating consequences." He pulled out the cylinder. "This will restore your memories."

Ivan frowned.

"But I know who I am. And I'm happy with that. What would happen if I remembered?"

"You... you would..." China looked at the man in front of him, so calm, so... sane. How could he return him to what he was? He sighed.

"No... forget it. I'm sorry for bothering you." He turned away. A hand rested on his shoulder. He turned back round.

"I do know you," said Ivan, taking the cylinder from his hands.

"You need to twist it," said China softly. "But..."

"If I can help you, I should."

China watched him twist the cylinder. He stood still for a moment, as memories washed over him, several expressions flashing over his face in that brief time. Then he smiled.

"Hello China," he said, and there was nothing in his voice to hint at the twisted mind China had feared returning. "How can I can I be of help?"


	26. Chapter 26

England couldn't stand still. He turned the toy soldier over in his hands, not sure how to feel about this choice of trust token... Touched, he guessed? Confused, mainly.

There. He was looking about himself in bewilderment. England got the impression that he had been doing that ever since he got the signal.

He stepped forwards.

"A... Alfred."

The young man looked up, surprised.

"H... how... Who...?"

"My name is Arthur. I... I need you to come with me."

"How did you know my name? Why am I here?"

"You... I... we need your help. You have to come with me." England held out the soldier. Alfred looked at it.

"Umm... what's..."He took it. "I... have you put a spell on me?"

"No." Actually, that wasn't a hundred percent true. It was a spell of sorts. England banished the thought. "I need you to come with me."

Alfred looked at the soldier.

"I don't seem to have a choice," he frowned.

"So you'll come?"

"Yes..." Alfred frowned. "But I'm watching you."

"I'll bear that in mind," muttered England.

He led him back to the empty house. If anyone had noticed him going in at all, let alone more than once, it would look bad, but they weren't staying here for long.

"I have to tell you something," said England, getting straight to the point. "You are not really you. Who you are now is an illusion. And…" His voice faltered. "And… I need the real you back."

Alfred frowned at him, looking both concerned and worried for his own safety.

"Did you escape from - ?"

"No!" snapped England. "I am not! I am telling you the truth, whether you believe it or not." He lowered his voice, looking the younger man square in the face.

"Please… we really could do with your help."

Alfred looked at the soldier he still held in his hands.

"Did you give me this?" he asked suddenly. England nodded. Alfred frowned.

"Who _are_ you?"

England reached into his pocket and pulled out the cylinder. He held it out.

"The answers are in here."

Alfred took it.

"Wha… what do I do with it?"

"Just twist it."

"What's going to happen?"

"Please just trust me."

Alfred looked at the soldier he still held.

"You _have_ put a spell on me," he said decisively, but he tucked the soldier into his pocket and twisted. England closed his eyes and waited for him to speak again.

He didn't. England froze as a pair of arms was suddenly flung round him.

"G… get…"

"Oh, yes!" America sprang back, his eyes wide with excitement. "Help! You need a hero's help!"

"Not your help specifically," muttered England. "But you signed your name…"

"Yes! Come on, tell me everything!"

* * *

Why exactly had they let him sign it, again?

Well, it was already decided that his job would not involve physical danger. And they couldn't just leave him to wander around a strange country.

Germany stepped in front of him and took hold of his arm. Feliciano Vargas looked at him, his eyes wide with fear, and looked as though he was about to run. Germany thrust the trust token into his hand. A worn white cloth; a flag, of course, which had had more than its fair usage.

"I know you're probably scared right now," said Germany quietly, making sure no-one around could hear, "But you have to trust me. My name is Ludwig and I'm your friend."

"I..." Feliciano looked at the white cloth in his hands. "I... believe you."

"You'll come with me?"

"Yes. But don't hurt me."

Germany smiled.

"Of course I wouldn't. Come on, quickly."

They left the train station.

"Where are we going?" asked Feliciano.

"We need to find somewhere quiet, where we can talk. I have things to tell you which I can't say too loud."

Feliciano looked doubtful, but twisting the flag in his hands seemed to reassure him.

"I know you quite well, don't I?"

"Yes," said Germany, "You do."

"Did we know each other as kids or something?"

"No. But we have known each other a long time." Germany stopped. They had reached an empty street corner with no windows facing across to it and no-one too close. Not ideal, but it would have to do.

"Feliciano." He pulled the cylinder from his pocket. Prussia had pressed it and the trust token into his hands before rushing off to meet someone else. Germany wasn't exactly prepared for explaining this – knowing exactly what the problem was probably would have helped – but he should be able to give a basic rundown of things. Thankfully, Feliciano wasn't being difficult.

"Inside this cylinder," started Germany, "Is… a secret. A secret you should know, and once did know. You need to open the cylinder to remember."

Feliciano looked worried.

"Why don't I remember?"

"You needed to forget. But now… some people need you to remember. Our friends. I'd forgotten too, until not so long ago."

Feliciano took the cylinder.

"How do I… open it?" he asked hesitantly.

"Just twist it from the centre."

"Is this going to be painful?"

"No. It may seem a little overwhelming at first, but it doesn't take long for everything to settle back into place."

"OK." Feliciano smiled bravely. "In a minute I might know what's happening."

He twisted. Germany waited a minute before speaking.

"Italy?" he said softly.

"Germany," smiled Italy, hugging him. "I'm back."

"Yes," said Germany, relief flooding over him. He hadn't known what to expect. Italy could have gone into hysterics. But he seemed fine. Actually…

"I think I may be able to be of more help than usual," he said, unexpectedly. He smiled wider. "Feliciano was far more competent than me. So what's the problem?"

Germany was taken aback by this. He composed himself.

"I don't know for sure yet. Prussia only woke me not so long ago. We have to go meet him. Come on."

* * *

"Kiku."

Kiku looked round at the sound of his name. He had been standing still, looking perfectly composed for someone who had no idea what he was doing. China walked up to him.

"I'm who you're here to meet."

Kiku regarded him.

"I do not know why I am here," he said slowly, "But I don't see that as a reason to trust a complete stranger."

China held out the trust token. A cat collar. Kiku took it, frowning.

"What is this?"

"It's your's."

"Yes. I know that. Why do you have it?"

"I was looking after it for you."

"I gave you a cat collar to look after?" Kiku sounded sceptical, but the trust token would not allow him to walk away.

"Yes. You have to come with me."

He didn't look like he wanted to. But he had to. He nodded. China led him away, somewhere quiet.

"I need you to listen to me now," he said, stopping and turning to the other man. "Don't interrupt, even if you think I'm insane. There are people in this world who live a lot longer than other people. I am one. So are you. We are being hunted, and I need your help."

Kiku stared at him. China pulled the cylinder from his pocket.

"I need you to open this. I know what I'm saying sounds insane, but honestly, I need your help."

Kiku frowned at him. He held out his hand for the cylinder. China could almost hear his thoughts. He clearly didn't want to upset the lunatic before him, and something was stopping him from running away... so he twisted the cylinder. After a moment's confused silence his face – unexpectedly – lit up.

"It worked," he said, smiling a rare smile.

"Yes," said China. "You're back." He forced back a wave of emotion that he did not want this person seeing.

Japan nodded.

"Yes," he said. "Now how can I be of assistance?"

* * *

**Author's Note: The next instalment will be back to normal; although they are waking up more than six other nations, I only decided to write it out for the remaining ones of the main cast. And no, I do not have a satisfactory reason for bringing Italy back, but I could hardly leave him out. So I made a pathetic attempt to justify it.**


	27. Chapter 27

Peter had not expected to sleep well and he didn't. He didn't keep waking up after only two minutes but he certainly had nightmares. Nightmares about what had happened – and nearly happened – to him, muddled in with the worst of the usual stuff.

Then he was being shaken awake.

"Peter," said his brother's voice. "We're leaving. Come on, get up."

Peter forced his eyes open.

"A... Arthur, what...?"

"I'm sorry, I can't explain right now. Just get up."

He stumbled to his feet.

"Where are we...?"

"We um... we have to move on. Now. It's not safe to stay in the same place for too long. And, er... there'll be some other people with us."

"Who...?"

"Friends. Yao and Gilbert will be travelling separately though."

"What about Stacy?" Peter followed him from the room.

"She'll be with one of them." Arthur almost ran down the stairs and Peter hurried after him.

"Why are we rushing so…?"

"We have to. There are some important things to do." They reached the back door and emerged to find a car ready and waiting.

"You'll have to get in the back," said Arthur, opening the door. Peter saw two people already sat there. He was nervous.

"It's OK. They're friends."

Peter still hesitated. Something was… off.

"Arthur?"

"Please, Peter. Trust me."

Peter nodded. He climbed in, very uneasy now. Arthur… just didn't seem like Arthur somehow. Also, he was climbing in next to a complete stranger.

Arthur got in the driver's seat. In the passenger seat beside him was a young, blond haired, bespectacled man who was, for some bizarre reason, grinning.

"This is Alfred, Matthew and Francis," said Arthur. He paused, before reiterating, "They're friends."

They set off. Peter pulled on his seatbelt and looked at the young man sat beside him. He was identical to the one in the passenger seat, except that rather than smiling he was anxiously wringing his hands. Catching Peter's eye, he did attempt a smile, but it didn't really work. Beyond him, Peter could see another man with long blond hair, but couldn't make out anything else.

Peter hunched back in his chair. He wanted to talk to Arthur, seek more reassurance, but he didn't dare with all these strange people here. None of them said anything either. A couple of times the grinning man looked like he might, but he always shut his mouth at a quick warning glance from Arthur.

A warning glance did not suit Arthur at all.

They drove on.

* * *

Their journey involved a boat. Not a particularly long one, only to an island just big enough for what looked like an average, albeit large, house. Arthur took him straight upstairs.

"I'm sorry, Peter," he said. "But you're going to have to stay up here."

He opened a door to a small bedroom.

"There's some books, and a TV with some videos you can watch – you won't be able to watch any channels. Will you be OK?"

"Yes... I'll be fine." Peter knew he was unconvincing; he couldn't hide how uneasy he felt.

"What's wrong?"

"How did you know exactly where this room was?"

Arthur blinked, and for a moment looked annoyed at himself. He regained his composure.

"I... I was told to take you up here. Earlier. Before we got here."

Peter stared at him. Why was Arthur lying to him? Why was Arthur being so... off, generally?

"Arthur…"

"Hmm?"

"Are you… OK?"

Arthur looked wrong footed.

"Um… yes, yes of course, I'm fine. Stressed, but… I think that's understandable."

"Who are those people?"

"They're friends, Peter. Honestly. We need to do something about this situation."

"Why can we just call the police?"

"We… we just can't. Yao and Gilbert explained everything to me, but… I don't have time to repeat it all to you right now. Just… just trust me, OK?"

"OK," said Peter uncertainly.

"Thank you." He gave him a quick, awkward hug and went downstairs.

Stressed. Peter closed the door to this new room. Yes. He would be stressed. How could Peter expect otherwise?

Just stress. And he'd be fine once this whole thing was over.

Absolutely.


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's note: A few things. 1) I won't have access to a computer next weekend, 2) this website doesn't like me much right now, if there are formatting errors then I apologise – it's hesitant on whether to let me edit, and 3) I know I've set up big things a bit too much, but this is the last one, I am gearing up to the conclusion. Thank you for sticking with the story this long, and please inform me if anything's wrong.**

The conference room was full. It was not nearly a full sized, whole world one, but it was the right size for their needs right now. There had initially been a bit of hugging going on, but everyone had settled down now, and were looking at China and Prussia, who stood at the head of the table. England was sat closest to them.

China spoke, quickly outlining the situation. Any lingering traces of joy from being reunited with friends and family fell away from the other nations' faces as the danger they – and all who had not been woken – were potentially in became clear. Naturally, they had all realised it must be something pretty serious, but an exact account on what had happened brought all the danger to life.

"We've discovered four bases around the world. We need to take out every one of them. So we'll need to split into four groups, plus leaving a couple behind to protect Peter and Stacy. Prussia and I are going to decide on the groups, but we need to brief you all personally first so we can see how much your years as humans affected you all. And then we'll need time to put a plan together. We will consult others, but we are naturally the most experienced in this area, and I'm informed that traces of the human personalities may remain, so everyone will need some time to either eliminate those or reconcile them with their correct personalities.

"So, I advise all of you go somewhere to rest and get your heads in order. We will come find you when we want to talk to you, and call everyone back here when we've worked something out. It may take a day or two, but we really need to get this settled as soon as possible."

Nobody looked particularly happy about their lack of say in this, but no-one argued, and they all went away to follow China's advice, not even stopping to talk to the ones they had recently been reunited with, until it was only China, Prussia and England left.

"Are you sure you've got your head sorted?" asked China.

"No," said England. "But given that Peter is here, and still human, it's not likely I'm going to. I've sorted it as much as I can."

"We need you to be on top form. One of the main bases is in your country, and you know the situation better than any of them, so you're going to have to lead one of the teams. You can't keep worrying about him all the time."

"I know," said England, annoyed. "I'm not going to jeopardise things. If it makes you feel better I'll go meditate or something, but I really don't think I'm going to work things out any more than I already have." He started towards the door, then hesitated.

"You… you are going to leave someone here who'll be able…?"

"Of course we are. We can't have Peter falling into their hands again."

England didn't even try to pretend that was how he really felt. Nor did he believe that China would have such a cold view towards his life… unless he'd changed more than England had thought, in his decade of necessary violence.

"Good," he managed to grunt, and left.

* * *

At the top of the house, in a comfortable but small room, the girl called Stacy was starting to work through her terror. They hadn't killed her yet, and they'd had plenty of opportunity to, so it didn't seem as though she was in immediate danger.

There were more of them now. More of those monstrosities. Clearly, her guardian had wanted to destroy them for a reason.

How was Peter a monstrosity? She had always wondered that. He seemed not much different from herself. If he was truly one of these immortal, all powerful creatures, why would he look like a young boy? And how could he not know he was one of them? Her guardian had not been entirely clear on that bit, but Stacy had trusted her. Why shouldn't she?

And now she was dead. They had murdered her. They hadn't outright said it, but she knew it.

She picked up her shoe from the floor beside her and lay it on her lap. They had been suspicious of her, of course. They still were. They had used what seemed to be a hand held bug detector, on the off chance her guardian had been paranoid enough to put a bug on her in case of an event such as this.

It wasn't such an off chance. She had a tracker. Her guardian had said that her job was potentially dangerous, and if the monsters ever captured her they would need to find her.

She pulled out the insole. Underneath was a hollowed out square, with a small electronic chip fixed in it. Stacy smiled. They hadn't checked her shoes. Her guardian was just too clever for them.

It had two settings. The default was the constant call it would be sending out right now, to someone who couldn't answer it. But there was also a tiny tiny switch. And that, once flipped, would call out to all their allies that the monsters had been found.

She replaced the insole. She would not flick it just yet; she wasn't stupid, there were far too many of them. Hopefully, they were planning something that required leaving. One of them would have to stay to make sure she didn't run for it.

Then she'd have her chance.


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's Note: Thanks to all readers for your patience. Uploads should be back to normal now. Also, something should actually happen next chapter!**

"What do you mean, you're going? Where?"

Arthur grimaced.

"I… we just need to sort some things out. And then we can forget about all of this." He didn't look entirely certain about what he was saying. Peter squinted at him.

"Are you lying to me?"

"I... no... of course I'm not, Peter." A smile forced its way onto his face. He knelt down and placed a hand on Peter's shoulder, looking straight into his eyes.

"Just trust me…"

"You keep saying that."

"Just one more time. And then I promise we can put this behind us."

Peter bit his lip.

"But… you can't just leave me here. What if those people come back?"

"You won't be alone here. Of course someone is staying to protect you. Come on, I'll introduce you."

Peter frowned.

"Why can't you stay?"

"I… I'm needed elsewhere."

"Why 'needed'? I don't know who these people are, why does one of them have to stay?"

"I… I can't explain." Arthur closed his eyes for a moment, thinking. "Well… I do have more experience with what's going on than most of them. And… there are other reasons… that I can't… that you wouldn't understand."

"You could try to explain."

"No. No… I'm sorry Peter, I really can't. Just trust me one more time. I'll tell you what I can afterwards. But for now, I just need you to stay safe here, and I'll be back... soon enough."

"Just how long...?"

"A few days. No more. Come on."

Peter followed him to another room. A man stood up as they entered and held out a hand.

"Peter, this is Ludwig. He's going to stay here with you. I've known him for a long time, and I promise you he'll be able to protect you if anything happens." Arthur paused. "And that's an unlikely scenario to begin with."

Peter shook the man's hand, not really wanting to, but not having any particular apathy towards him and feeling it would be rude not to.

"Hello," he mumbled. He didn't want a stranger, he wanted his brother. Why was Arthur leaving? He'd been torn away from him, reunited, moved twice… he wanted to go home, he wanted to be back in his own room. With Arthur. It wasn't fair. His brother was the only relation he had ever had, and now…

Ever?

OK, he was _not_ going back into that insanity pit of thoughts that had made him run away and start all this. Things happening in the outside world were scary enough without his own thoughts freaking him out.

"Have we met?" he blurted suddenly. Ludwig looked startled. He glanced at Arthur.

"Not that I recall," he said eventually. "Do I look familiar?"

"N… no…" Peter didn't _think_ so; he didn't know what had possessed him to ask that question.

Arthur took hold of his shoulder.

"Come on Peter," he said quietly. "Let's have a bit of time before I have to leave."

Peter nodded, slowly, uncertainly, and let himself be steered from the room.

* * *

England had to leave him an hour later. He could see the boy was not in a good way with himself, which was hardly surprising. He didn't want to leave him, but he _had_ to. He trusted Germany; he was strong enough to protect the children, and once he was given the job he would do everything in his power to carry it out. It was convincing Peter of that fact that was difficult. England seriously considered using the trust token. There was no logical reason not to, he knew. But it just felt a little too much like mind control, and he didn't want to do that to the boy.

It was difficult saying goodbye. He could see the fear, the hurt and betrayal in Peter's eyes. But he had to.

He stepped out of the front door, closing it firmly behind him, and walked down to the dock. He did not need to look up to know that Peter was watching him. He should have looked up. If he had then he would have seen another face, the young girl Stacy's, looking down from a tiny window set near the roof. That might just have alerted him, even if he couldn't have seen the slow smile creeping over her face.


	30. Chapter 30

**Author's Note: Coursework is crazy this week! Next update may be a little late again, but it's the holidays next week, so I shouldn't be delayed too much. Unless the internet decides it hates me again. But it should be OK.**

England crouched low. By his side, Canada did the same. There were eight nations in his group, and they had split into pairs. England had chosen Canada to come along with him because he was quiet. Obviously, everyone needed to be quiet, but England needed absolute concentration, and therefore someone he could be sure wouldn't distract him. Besides, Canada had some useful abilities.

It had taken them several hours to reach this place, more time had been spent scouting out the location, working out where they could enter, trying to guess what it would be like inside, deciding where to meet up afterwards or if things went wrong. And they had decided to wait until dark.

It wasn't a particularly big building. Small enough to be hidden among the hills and forests. But heavily guarded, with alarmed fences and doors, and men working inside and outside the gates.

Their objective was to destroy it, or at least the people within it. Without attracting too much attention. England and Canada were going in first, to work out who could be allowed to live. The guards may not know what the true objective of the place was.

England closed his eyes, thinking of the guards.

_It must be a lonely job, _he thought. _Out here at night, in the middle of nowhere. It would be awful if you had a family. And it could be pretty scary too, even for a trained man. There's no houses nearby, if the place is attacked. If you lose then –_

He opened his eyes.

"About fifty metres away," he whispered, indicating the direction. Canada nodded. He stood up and walked away.

There was no shout from the man. England heard a slight rustle from Canada presumably hiding his unconscious body. He closed his eyes and cast out once again for a citizens' feelings.

It didn't take him long to find a second guard. England kept part of his mind on the man, but now he had something else he wanted to try.

He held out his arms and whispered a word. A word in an ancient language, a word that had not passed his lips in a long time.

After no more than half a second, the first fairy alighted on his hand. Within five, he was being swarmed. He had to swallow back a delighted laugh that they still came so quickly, even after a decade.

"_You're back!"_ they cried in silent voices. England nodded, grinning like an idiot now.

"England?"

Canada was back. He was wearing the guard's uniform. The uniforms wouldn't hide them for long, but they may be able to go a bit longer without attracting attention.

England pointed him towards the second guard, and Canada disappeared once again. He turned his attention back to the fairies.

"I wish I could spend some proper time with you," he said quickly, "But right now I really need your help."

They all murmured that they would do everything they could to help him.

"We need to destroy this building, and kill certain people in it." England knew the fairies trusted him enough not to question this rather blunt explanation. "We've scouted out the outside, but we don't know what it's like inside. Canada and I are going in, but it would be good if you could have a look round too. And, if you could find it, a record of the staff would be good too."

They were eager to help, as they had always been, and disappeared into the night as Canada reappeared, with a second uniform. England quickly pulled it on. They emerged from their hiding place and moved towards the gates. The others should have sorted out any issues by now. England didn't know what the guards inside would look like, if they would be dressed differently at all, but walking in like this had to be better than going in as normal.

At least Canada had taken the weapons too. The weight of the gun at England's hip was reassuring.

The gates opened easily. They probably wouldn't have long before that was noticed. England unconsciously looked up, hoping for a sign of his friends returning.

A guard appeared. England saw immediately that he _was_ wearing a different uniform to the guards outside the guards. Dammit. Inside would be sure to be different again then. He levelled a gun at England. But he probably would have shot him on sight otherwise.

"What are you doing inside the gates?" demanded the guard.

"We found a couple of intruders," lied England. "We knocked them out before they could get in, but I –"

The man's head jerked forwards. Canada faded back into view, lowering him carefully to the ground and rifling through his pockets. England smiled in relief. Canada had only worked out how to control his invisibility fairly recently, before everything, and there had been concern that he would have completely forgotten again. But it seemed he had slipped back into the skill with ease.

"We'll have to go fast," he whispered now, straightening up. England's smile disappeared and he nodded. They picked up their pace, heading towards a door they knew to be guarded. This time Canada hung back while England crept forwards, and, in once swift move, brought the butt of the gun down on the guard's head, knocking him out cold. He tried the door, carefully, and was relieved to find that any locks had also been deactivated, and it swung open easily. They stepped inside, into a brightly lit corridor. Cameras immediately turned to watch them. England tried to ignore them. He was hoping those had also been dealt with, and if they hadn't then staring into the lens in fear would hardly make them look less suspicious. They just had to move fast.

So they moved.


	31. Chapter 31

**Author's Note: I'm aware this story is getting a bit ridiculous. It always happens in my stories. I'm trying to work through it. Hopefully, it's still at least enjoyable.**

Peter had shut himself in his room. There was no lock, but Ludwig did not attempt to disturb him. He was slumped over the windowsill, staring out across the island, and further, the sea.

What was wrong with Arthur? He was not himself, at all. And... he had just... left. Arthur would never leave him, no matter what the situation. Surely? Nothing was more important to him than Peter?

It didn't help that when he had managed to snatch sleep the dreams had come, thicker and more vivid than ever.

What was the cause of all this? They thought that he- he and Arthur – were immortal monsters. Insanity. For one thing, you would know if you were immortal. You'd have a longer memory than...

Two years.

No no _no_! It was stress! Yes. Stress was making him crazy. Those lunatics' ridiculous accusations had somehow sunk into his mind and taken his memory.

He remembered the confrontation with Arthur. Arthur hadn't had any reason to be particularly stressed at that time. Concerned that his brother was on the verge of hysteria, yes, but not stressed. With no reason to suddenly lose twenty-one years of his life.

Well... maybe that never happened either. Maybe he'd run off for some completely unrelated reason, and his overactive imagination had created the scene. After all, he could hardly trust a memory which said he'd only existed two years, could he? No, he was just crazy. Once this was all over, they could sort out real memories from fake memories. Yes.

That didn't change the fact that Arthur was not acting like Arthur.

He wanted him back. Why did they need him? There were plenty of these people! His friends...

The fact that Arthur suddenly had a boatload of friends Peter had never heard of was not helping matters.

Huh?

Peter caught a glimpse of something out side. He leaned forwards, squinting.

A boat. Quite far away. A distance such that he couldn't tell for sure, but he _thought_ it was coming towards them.

Arthur? Peter's hear leapt.

He frowned. Arthur had said a few days.

Well, maybe he was back early.

Was that a helicopter?

"Ludwig!" shouted Peter, jumping to his feet and running for the door. He skidded to a halt at the top of the stairs.

"Ludwig!"

Why did all these people have foreign names and accents, anyway?

He appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

"What is the problem?"

"There... there's a boat. And a helicopter. Outside! Coming –"

Ludwig was already running to the door. Peter started down the stairs.

"Stay up there!" he shouted. Peter faltered. Why exactly should he obey a complete stranger? Arthur would want him to… but then Arthur should have explained things properly. He settled for hovering about halfway down.

Ludwig reappeared. He pulled several bolts across the door and came up the stairs. Peter followed him.

"Where are –?"

He flung open one of the many doors that Peter had not even given a first glance. Peter followed him inside. He stared.

The room was filled with screens, apparently showing every corner of the island. The advancing boats and helicopter were in clear view. And yes, they were definitely advancing, and they seemed to have weapons. As well as the screens, there were buttons. Lots of buttons. And Peter didn't much like any of them.

Ludwig checked the screens. He pressed a few of the buttons. A few other screens flickered into life, showing strange things Peter didn't understand. Ludwig hesitated before pressing a final button.

Peter gasped. A flaming hole had appeared in the side of the helicopter and it plummeted to the ground. Ludwig glanced at him, looking like he was unsure if he should be here.

"This is the safest place in the house," he said eventually. Peter nodded wordlessly. Ludwig checked the screens again.

"The boats aren't close enough yet," he said. "I'm going to go check the girl." He got up and ran from the room. Peter looked back to the screens, still in shock. These people… they really didn't have issues with killing bad guys, did they?

Why was Arthur friends with people like this?

He'd gone off with one of those groups…

No! Arthur wasn't like that. Peter could believe that he'd kill if it was purely self defence and there was no other way… but he wouldn't shoot down a helicopter or send a building up in flames.

Peter wanted to curl up on the floor and block out the world. But he felt it would be pretty stupid not to at least watch what was going on outside. So he forced himself to keep looking at the screens.


	32. Chapter 32

**Author's Note: Alright, I'm seriously having issues with this story, and I'm aware my latest chapters are pretty crap. I'm suffering serious writer's block in regards to this, but if I leave it for too long I'll never get it finished, so I'm forcing myself to keep going. Anyway, just trying to apologise for the lack of quality in the latest chapters. I'm hoping it will get better.**

So far so good.

They had got down two passages and up a set of stairs without too much issue. A couple of guards had passed, but both times they had managed to remain unnoticed. There was usually something England could hide behind, and Canada didn't need to. England kept looking round, hoping for the glimmer of his friends returning.

"Why do you keep looking round?"

"Just edgy." Despite everything else that could be true of nation-tans, no-one had ever believed in his friends, and it didn't seem a good idea to make Canada think he was losing his mind at a time like this. "Sorry."

"No... it's right to be on guard."

"It might look suspicious, though, if they can see us." England picked up his pace. He wanted to get out of here, and the quicker they attained their objective, the quicker they could do that.

They walked for a few more minutes before England's friends shimmered into view. He smiled.

"What is it?"

"Oh... nothing." They were telling him to follow them. "We should go this way."

"Um... OK." Canada didn't look as though he had any idea what to make of this sudden certainty, but it wasn't like he had any suggestions.

England did move faster now he knew where he was going. They still had to hide when someone came passed, but their progress – which was now actual progress, rather than wandering around only a vague destination – was definitely faster. He didn't know exactly what the fairies were leading him to, but he trusted them to be showing good judgement here.

The fairies led them to the end of a narrow passage, at the end of which England was told a man guarded a door. It would be difficult even for Canada to sneak up on him. His invisibility had its limits, and standing directly in front of someone was one of those.

"How close can you get?" mouthed England. Canada shrugged.

"I'll see."

"I'll be ready to back you up."

Canada nodded. He stepped out and walked boldly down the passage.

He got pretty close. When he was just over a metre away the man suddenly focused on him. He started, but his gun was raised on instinct.

England couldn't see this himself, but he heard the man stammer.

"S… stay where you are!" His voice grew more certain as the sentence went on; he had been caught off guard by someone appearing in front of him, but he was a professional. England stepped round. Canada had hesitated a moment – to be honest, to England's irritation; he knew how important this was, he knew what they had to do. Any hesitance was pointless, counterproductive, and quite frankly idiotic. But he regained his nerve and threw himself forwards, first wrenching the weapon from the man's hands. England raised his gun, bringing it up so the guard could clearly see it when he was able to look down the passage. He was struggling; Canada had clamped a hand over his mouth so he couldn't alert the rest of the building, but he was putting up a fight. When he saw the gun being aimed at him he hesitated. Canada took this opportunity to fully regain his common sense and knock the man unconscious.

"You were too slow," said England.

"I… I didn't want to hurt…"

"You could knock out the guards outside. If they see you coming you have _more_ reason to act quickly."

"S... so..."

England shook himself. He was picking a bad time to give a lecture.

"Sorry," he said himself, and walked over to the door. He put his ear to the wood, listening out for any voices. He heard nothing. He nodded at Canada, who walked to the end of the passage to keep guard.

"Can you get in?" he whispered, so the other nation couldn't hear him. They shook their heads.

_We could sense this room, but we can't go through locked doors._

"Yes… that's right. Sorry. Thank you for all your help."

He would have to pick the lock. That was risky, considering he didn't know for sure there was no-one in there. He couldn't hear anything, and taking down the guard had involved enough noise for someone in there to hear… but he didn't know for sure.

But there was no other choice, so he set to work.

* * *

Stacy heard the monster coming. That was what they were. Monsters. Monstrosities. Even Peter. They hadn't hurt her yet, but no doubt they had something awful in store for her.

She had had a plan to get out when he came, but her mind had come to a complete standstill when she saw an explosion out of the corner of her eye, and she knew that someone had just died.

They really were monsters.

They'd killed her guardian. And now they'd locked her in this room without a word of explanation.

The door flew open. The man who had stayed behind stood there.

"Come with me now," he ordered. Stacy didn't know what else to do, so she stepped out of the room.

"What's… you…"

"Come on."

He took hold of her shoulder and pushed her in front of him. Stacy felt total terror grip her. They could apparently shoot her saviours before they got here, and if any did make it they wouldn't have any idea where to go.

They came to a room with monitors, where Peter was stood, frozen to the spot, staring at a screen.

"For your own well being," grunted the man, "I advise you not to look at the screens."

He locked and bolted the door. Stacy felt hopelessness settle on her shoulders.

The she had to hide a small smile, as she remembered how they had found the island in the first place. Maybe she wasn't doomed.


	33. Chapter 33

They stepped into a small office, which was, thankfully, empty. England had not been able to escape the vision of opening the door to find a full room of people staring at him, as much as he knew how improbable that was.

"Stay at the end of the corridor," said England, pulling out his phone and quickly dialling a number. He got an answer immediately.

"Arthur?"

They had decided to continue to use the human names on the phone, just in case someone somehow overheard their conversation. Their enemies had never know the exact nature of their existence, and they didn't need to.

"We're in," said England, walking to the window and scanning the country outside. "Side one, second floor."

They had numbered the sides earlier. England had memorised the area around each. It helped that it was his own countryside, and so it felt more like information he'd always known and just had to focus on, rather than something he had to learn. He couldn't use the same instinct on buildings, unfortunately, but he could do enough to work out which window he would be looking at were he outside, and was able to relay this information.

"Got you."

"There's no need to come up here, I just think you should know where we are. Now it's time for you to come in and incapacitate the guards, while we work out who we need to... while we work things out."

"Understood." The voice on the other end was quiet.

"Good luck," said England quietly, and hung up. He turned back to the room.

Where to begin?

* * *

Ludwig came back in, with Stacy.

"I don't advise either of you look at the monitors," he said. Peter gulped. It seemed a little too late for that. Stacy, he noticed, was scowling at the words. She did as he advised though. It occurred to Peter _why_ she might be upset at the thought of him shooting down her guardian's colleagues, and he felt a further twist of guilt in his stomach.

He looked at the wall as Ludwig went back to the monitors. He didn't want to see.

What was Arthur doing right now?

Don't!

He looked at Stacy. She was standing completely still, staring down at the floor. Looking at her, Peter felt a strange mix of hatred and pity. She had lost her guardian, yes, but if it hadn't been for them, he would be at home right now, with his brother, and life would be exactly as it should be.

What exactly were they going to do with this girl? They didn't seem to want to kill her… but they'd killed the person who looked after her.

Well, whatever. That wasn't his problem. What was going to happen to _him_? He wanted to go back to his life, but that seemed… it just didn't seem like it would happen. Arthur was… different, Peter now had things in his mind that at some point he was going to need to find answers about.

But nothing else could happen. He still refused to believe the crazy stories she had told him. Clearly, there was something about these people, something _wrong_, but whatever it was... well, whatever it was it didn't apply to him and Arthur. They just... knew Arthur somehow.

And yes, of course, that was why they'd been associated with them. Because Arthur knew the people.

Why was he still trying to rationalise something which was becoming increasingly impossible to rationalise?

_Just close your eyes and pretend this isn't happening._

That seemed like good advice. Peter took it.

* * *

England searched for what felt like forever before he found it. A record of the employees at this place. Hopefully, from this they would be able to work out who was just an innocent guard. England rather suspected that anyone who _wasn't_ an innocent guard would not have their name recorded at all. He hoped this was the case, as it would make their job a lot easier. He looked through all remaining files, seeing if there was anything else that was of any use. Anything on them needed to be destroyed anyway, and since there was a lot of that, it would make most sense just to leave it here and let it burn.

"OK, we have what we need," he said, walking out of the room to where Canada stood guard. "Let's help the others with the guards now."

Canada nodded, and they set off back through the building. Simple. Knock out the guards, and then…

England didn't relish the thought of what they had to do then.


	34. Chapter 34

Peter looked round, hearing Ludwig step away from the screens.

"Is… did…?"

Ludwig nodded, once, a wary eye on the girl was still stood with her back turned, her shoulders tensed. He said nothing. Neither of them wanted to speak the truth, especially not with Stacy there. But, looking at the screens and seeing them empty, Peter at least felt safer, even if it was at the expense of yet more peace of mind.

He felt safer briefly.

"Ludwig!"

Ludwig had seen it. A flicker, just a flicker, in the corner of a screen. A screen showing a part of the island alarmingly close to the house. Was someone down there? How could that be possible? How could anyone have got that near? Peter was scared to look at the screens again, but he forced himself to. He couldn't see anyone. Ludwig was staring intently, fingers poised. Peter became aware that Stacy had moved. He looked round to see her also staring at the screens, an odd look flickering across her face. Peter didn't like it. He opened his mouth to say something, but he didn't want to distract Ludwig.

Ludwig swore. In another language, but it was clearly a swear. He stood up.

"Stay here," he said to Peter. "Bolt the door, shove a chair against it. Don't even begin to open it until I say so."

Peter nodded wordlessly. Ludwig left, and he did as he said. He was aware of Stacy, watching, not helping, not trying to stop him. He wished Ludwig hadn't left her here with him; he was an adult, so he probably believed she wouldn't do anything. But she _had_ done things, she had helped with his kidnapping, and Peter, as much as he felt sorry for her, did not like her being there.

He turned to the screens, staying near the door. He saw the people now. A few of them, two groups of three or four. How had they got here? How was Ludwig going to take them all down? Granted, he had seen Gilbert in action, and Ludwig was another of these mysterious friends… and now that he thought about it they actually looked kind of similar – and they certainly had the same accent… but that many? It didn't matter what Peter had previously seen with his own eyes; he knew what was possible and what wasn't, and that didn't seem to be. Also, did he even have a weapon? Peter hoped so. He immediately wondered if that was the kind of thought he should have… but stuff it, he was sick of all this, and he wanted it _over_, so… whatever. Anyway, G… Ludwig was the good guy, so he was worth more than them.

_Death is necessity._

Peter blinked. What was that? That wasn't part of the random line of increasingly dark thoughts that was going through his mind. That was a different voice to the voice of his mind. That was… Arthur's voice. Saying something that was completely un-Arthur like, in a completely un-Arthur like tone.

_You're young now, you'll realise eventually._

Now he sounded irritated. Peter was scared. He didn't know what was happening in his head. It felt like a memory, but it was no memory he recognised.

_No. It never gets easy._

What the…? Peter shook his head, the anger that had been building up leaving him to be replaced with fear.

He felt water, rushing around his legs. He looked down, but of course there was no water.

And then he remembered Stacy and felt a twinge of embarrassment among the confusion of feelings that was swirling in his mind. He looked up to see her staring at him.

And he had a thought. For the first time since all this had really kicked off, he spoke directly to her.

"How did they know we were here?"

"Huh?" Her eyes widened. She looked, thought Peter, a little bit more fearful.

"You told them we were here. Somehow. They didn't find this place themselves." And now that he thought that, he realised that it was obvious, and he should have thought it from the start. Did Ludwig know? Probably. It wasn't his concern right now.

Ludwig…

Peter's eyes were drawn back to the screens.

He had reached one of the groups. He quickly took down two of them; he had caught them by surprise. The other two seemed prepared to put up more of a fight. Peter glared at Stacy.

"Don't look at me like that!" she burst out. "How dare you? He's killed plenty of people!"

"The things he shot down… they were decoys. You managed to hide the rest."

"I don't know!" Fear had disappeared from Stacy's face. She looked angry. "I just want to be saved from you monsters!"

Peter laughed hollowly.

"Sure, we're the monsters. Just shut up with that, you crazy girl."

"Even if you don't believe the stories, you can't deny they've killed people! I know what they did to my guardian."

"What, you're guardian that kidnapped me, took me away from my home, locked me up and was going to do who knows what to me?"

Stacy glowered at him.

"They were just going to do a few tests. We wanted you to come along willingly."

"Like I'd do that! And I'm sorry, but those 'tests' were painful, and she barely even got started! Why should I go along with nutcases who think I'm some kind of alien?

"Well she's dead now, isn't she?" shouted Stacy, and there were tears in her eyes. Peter wasn't in the mood for pity.

"Yeah, and the world is a better place without her."

This was too much for Stacy, who swung her fist at him. A bad idea. Peter threw up his arm and lashed out, hitting her hand. She cried out and doubled over, clutching her hand. Peter had a vague idea that he might have actually injured her, but he didn't care that he had done it, and he didn't care how he had done it. He looked back at the screens. His heart beat faster. Ludwig had successfully taken down all but one of the group, but Peter could see the other group, moving swiftly but stealthily towards him. They were going to ambush him. Peter had no idea how he'd do against a surprise attack like that.

He looked at Stacy. He didn't want to leave her here alone. And Ludwig had ordered him to stay here. He looked back at the screen. Ludwig was in trouble. Despite his obviously superior strength and fighting skills, he had been caught off guard, and Peter was scared for him.

He pulled away the chair, unbolted the door and ran from the room.

**Author's Note: Silly me forgot to put this on when I uploaded the chapter... Anyway, just in case anyone is confused by what Peter is remembering, it's the very beginning of his life, when he was simply a war fort. It must have been pretty scary to not just be born into war, but be born into playing a part in it. I wasn't sure how obvious that was, but I thought I'd better add this.**


	35. Chapter 35

England felt drained. There had been enough of them that it hadn't been too difficult to subdue the guards, and most of them had gone down without realising they had been attacked, but it was hard to ignore the shock, the fear that bled out of those who did manage to catch a glimpse of him.

They had dragged them all into one room. Some the group had assembled; Canada, looking a little sick, Italy, gulping and looking like he was regretting not simply following his old behaviour and running for it, Japan, his face a tiny bit less inscrutable than usual. None of them wanted to do this, to kill. They may be nations, they may have lived through countless wars, have _fought_ in countless wars... they had certainly killed people on the battlefield. But this was _off_ the battlefield, and that made a world of difference. The rest of the group were guarding the doors, making sure they weren't interrupted in their grisly task.

That wasn't even the whole of it. These were just the night workers. They would have to lie in wait for anyone to come the next day, track down anyone who was left. Those people's fates would have been decided long before they were even aware they were in danger.

There was no need to think about that just yet. Think about the men who were here right now.

The first task; who needed to die? With the help of the records book, and a bit of hacking from Japan, they were able to sort the men into the two groups. Then it was sort of looking at each other, no-one really wanting to take the 'to die' group. Japan would have to do the memory resetting; it was a delicate operation, and he was the best with technology. England cast a doubtful eye at Italy and Canada. Italy had proved himself more capable than he used to be by surviving this long, and Canada was, England knew, much tougher than he looked… but he just didn't believe they'd be up to this. But _he_ didn't want to kill his own citizens.

He probably should have chosen the groups better. He could send someone to swap…

No. He had chosen the groups for a reason. They had the most unpleasant task, but they needed people outside who would definitely be able to hold their own if anyone came. They would have to suck it up and get on with it.

"Come on then," growled England. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

He'd made the wrong decision.

A part of Peter had realised this before he was even two steps out of the door. But even then, it was somehow too late to turn back now. Even if he had wanted to, his feet seemed to be moving on their own now, faster than he had ever been able to run before. He barely registered it.

He knew Stacy had come out after him. He didn't care. She could call on her cronies but she couldn't seem to do anything useful herself.

It didn't take him long to reach Ludwig. Stacy was somewhere behind him. The ground was littered with unconscious bodies. There were three of them left. Ludwig had clearly put up a good fight, but now he was struggling. He wasn't losing exactly… but he could hardly be said to be winning either. Peter saw that he was dragging his leg, and there was a bloodstain spreading across more and more of his trousers, but he was still fighting. Right now, things could really go either way.

Peter threw himself forwards. He had to help. And he felt like he could, for some reason he could not explain.

He hadn't completely lost it. He threw himself at the smallest of the men. He brought him down easily, almost knocking him out just from the force he threw him to the ground with.

"Peter!" shouted Ludwig. He sounded furious. "Get back to-"

He was cut off. Peter had half turned to him. That was a mistake. The man may be disorientated, and he may have been brought down by a child, but he was trained, and he was back on his feet with his arm wrapped round Peter's throat within seconds.

Peter knew he could throw him off. He knew that for one more instant. And then it was gone, all his bravado drained away, and he was a helpless little boy again. He kicked out ineffectively, feeling tears of terror spring to his eyes as something cold was pressed against his throat.

He heard a sound of strangled frustration from Ludwig. He had taken down one more man, but now it was two of them against an injured man and a stupid little boy who couldn't do as was told. And it didn't take a genius to work out the unspoken threat of what would happen if Ludwig moved again.

Light footsteps announced that Stacy had caught up with him. Peter heard her stop but he didn't look at her; he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing the fear in his eyes.

"The boy is coming with us," said the man, "And either you are too, or you're never going anywhere again."

Ludwig scowled. Peter got the impression that it was aimed at both his attacker and himself. And he could hardly blame him if it was; he'd messed up everything here.

And now… and now they were really going to die.


	36. Chapter 36

Nothing seemed to be happening. Peter's captor and Ludwig just stared at each other for a long time. The other remaining attacker and Stacy made no move. There was just silence.

Eventually, Ludwig broke it.

"I will not go with you," he said, in a voice of forced calm. "And there is no way I can allow you to take Peter."

"Then Peter will die."

Peter stared at Ludwig. He wished he could say his gut was screaming its approval of the man's word, that he would rather die than let this man get what he wanted… but that would be a lie. He _really_ didn't want to die. He hoped Ludwig had some kind of plan forming, and was not just giving Peter's life up.

He tried to reason with the man. Peter would have preferred some kind of ninja-style attack, followed by holing themselves back up in the monitor room, preferably with a large gun and several boxes of ammo.

"I can't let you take him," repeated Ludwig. "That is simply not an option."

That was not encouraging in the slightest.

The knife was pressed harder against his throat. Peter let out a strangled gasp.

_I took this guy down two seconds ago. Surely I can do that again?_

But... how had he done that? How had he done anything?

Peter finally accepted something which he had been doing his best not to recognise. That there were only two explanations left to him.

One – this was all some insane dream – possibly some kind of insanity induced hallucination – and he was lying in bed somewhere screaming nonsensical things.

Two – everything Stacy and her guardian had said was true, and he really _was_ some kind of crazy, immortal creature.

Peter _really_ hoped it was the first one.

But even if it was, and this was imaginary… surely he should technically be in charge?

He closed his eyes.

_I can throw this guy off me._

Well, this was idiotic.

_I __**can**__. I took him down before._

And there could be no harm in trying, if they were going to kill him or capture him anyway. Peter didn't think Ludwig's weak attempts at reasoning were going to help. Also, given that he had said that letting Peter be taken was not an option, but nothing similar about his death... why was Peter getting the impression him dying was the more preferable of the two options?

Peter was not going along with either option without a fight. He thought of Arthur, how he'd come after him, risked his life to get him back… and would now return to find either a corpse or a missing child.

That could _not_ happen. He couldn't do that to his brother.

Peter opened his eyes. He met Ludwig's. He had no plan. He was still trying to reason with the man, and his remaining colleague, who was hovering near Ludwig, gun out.

And Peter knew exactly what he was going to do if he somehow managed to get that insane strength back.

_I can, I can, I __**can**_.

He ignored the voices, allowing them to reduce to no more than a buzz at the back of his mind. He ignored Stacy, who was stood staring with wide eyes at the knife. He even forced himself to ignore the knife.

_I can do this._

_I __**can**__!_

He jerked to the side, so suddenly he caught himself off guard. The knife slid across his neck, and for a moment Peter worried it would slice his skin open after all. But he was still standing, the man's grip had loosened. Peter twisted, managing to elbow him somewhere in the upper body area. He looked at Ludwig. He was having a second of surprise, but he got over it pretty quickly. The man behind him didn't. Peter met Ludwig's eyes, and a moment of understanding passed between them. He knew what Peter wanted him to do.

Ludwig moved quickly, running out of the way, to grab Stacy before she could run, perhaps somehow find her way off the island. She didn't seem to be trying to. The man looked after him, confusion on his face that he had been left standing, but still not having reached the point in his thinking which told him to run for it.

Peter grabbed his former-captor, who, having also been too shocked, began yelling and struggling as Peter lifted him bodily off the ground. Peter, once again, didn't question his strength while it was working for him. He felt… elated, that was the right word. Confident.

He hurled the man at his colleague. He didn't know how necessary such a move was, but he wanted to make an impact, to impress on these men that coming here, threatening him, had been a _very_ bad idea.

Ludwig came back, one hand firmly on Stacy's shoulder. He let go once he reached the men, and went to make sure they were unconscious… or whatever. Peter looked at Stacy. She was white faced, staring at him in horror. He was fairly certain she wouldn't try anything else.

"Back upstairs," growled Ludwig, standing up and ushering them in the right direction. "I told you not to come down."

"I didn't listen," said Peter, matter-of-factly.

Ludwig was not happy with him, but he said nothing more on the matter. Peter, however, had a question that he was finally willing to ask.

"Ludwig?"

"Yes?" Ludwig knew full well what was coming.

"Who am I?"

* * *

**Author's Note: I couldn't really think of a proper way out of the situation, so we got this instead. I'm aware I'm kind of repetitive. The story's nearly finished now, so I'm afraid I can't really take plot suggestions at this stage, although they are taken to heart for future stories, and I am grateful for them. The ending might seem a bit anti-climactic, as a prior warning, but to be honest I am finding writing this story increasingly difficult. I'm still in the area of loving writing it, but I'd rather finish it soon than still be going when I'm past that and risk never finishing it.**

**This Author's Note turned out longer than I was planning. But thank you all for reading this story, I do appreciate it.**


	37. Chapter 37

**Author Note: This is pretty rubbish. It's really just summarising, and, as I said, anticlimactic... but I've been struggling against writer's block for a while now, so I need to wrap up this story. There should only be about three chapters left now, (and two of them will be more epiloguey), so at least I will have got the story finished. I figured that being anticlimactic was better than not having an ending. Thanks for reading.**

"Did it work?" England looked at the unconscious men. Japan's face gave away nothing.

"They are alive," he said. "There is, however, a chance that they may have lost some mental capacity."

England nodded. Well, at least they knew the machine didn't kill humans.

"Wh… what will we do if…?" Italy trailed off.

England shrugged.

"There isn't a lot we can do," he said, keeping his voice level. He did care, of course, about his own citizens… but he'd rather incapacitate a few than leave a chance for another revival of the hunting, and consequently risk not just himself but the people of his nation. That was what he always had to remember; his own welfare _did_ come first when compared to ordinary humans, as did that of every other nation on the planet, because what was harmful to them could have devastating effects on their citizens.

And, of course, he cared about himself as a person, he cared about his brother. He wouldn't go to these lengths to save _just_ his own skin… but it was definitely a motivation for him, and there was no point in trying to deny that.

England… England had never been the best person.

Whatever his motivations, this was the course to be taken, and it wasn't finished yet, so he should stop trying to distract himself with his rambling thoughts. The men had to be transported somewhere where they would be found, the remaining staff were to be tracked down, and the building and all its secrets were to be razed to the ground.

And he was in charge of this group. He wasn't sure he particularly wanted to be, but he was, and it was only right given that this was his country, and he'd been back longer.

"Alright," he said, for no reason other than once he'd said that word he would have to continue and not hide in his thoughts. "Canada and Italy, you're in charge of these men. Get them down to the nearest town."

They nodded. England turned to Japan.

"We're going to be part of the group tracking down the other workers. Come on."

Japan nodded. They left the room. As much as it hurt him to attack his own citizens, the moral implications of all that… England was actually sort of relieved to have something more to do.

Once he was finished… then he had things to think about.

* * *

The others weren't hard to track down. Most of them worked nearby. There were initially six in the group doing the tracking, but once the other four had finished with the other tasks, the entire group was at work on it.

They worked as swiftly as they could, splitting into pairs. This was going to raise serious suspicion, after all, and they needed to get away as fast as they could.

England was relieved that they could use the memory device more often than not. It seemed that most of the workers believed they working for a completely normal company. Once the bloodshed reached a certain level, England knew he would feel it; even killing all of them wouldn't have elicited more than a small, niggling, pain, but it would nonetheless serve as a perfect reminder for what he had done. Also, "mass memory loss with some deaths" seemed more like a creepy horror story thing that people would attribute to aliens or insane government conspiracies, if they didn't try to ignore it, than "mass deaths", which would create a massive manhunt.

They had tracked down the most superior people within a day. When morning broke, some went back to wait for the day workers who were promptly dealt with. They didn't quite finish before the first wiped men were found, but they were able to slip away without anyone catching a glimpse of them.

They took three cars away, each going a different route. England was grateful to not have to drive; the others understood that no matter how bad this whole thing made them feel, it was England's people who they had attacked, and it was worse for him.

And, of course, he couldn't be overly relieved that it was all over now.

Because now he had to face his little brother.

* * *

His car was the only one which headed back to the island. They were going to meet up again in a new location. He would feel the tug. This time, everyone was being called back. Plan C had failed to throw off suspicion, and they had decided it was better for them to be aware and able to defend themselves if it happened again.

England's blood froze when he saw the signs of attack. He ran inside, calling for his brother.

"Arthur!"

He heard him calling for him from the top of the stairs and ran to them. He saw at once the change in the boy. Not quite the change of someone who knew… but a change.

"Peter?" He didn't run towards him, like England would have expected, rather walking slowly down the stairs, a strange expression on his face; of determination, of resignment, of fear. Germany appeared behind him. He shook his head apologetically at England.

"Arthur," said Peter, coming to a stop before him.

"Peter?"

"Tell me everything."


	38. Chapter 38

Peter sat cross legged on the bed that had been his in this house. The last bed that would ever be _his_. England sat down beside him. He had retrieved the hat from his own room, and now sat turning it over in his hands. Peter looked curiously at it and held out his hand. England shook his head.

"No… not yet." He didn't want to force Peter's response. And he wanted him to know the whole truth.

Germany had told him about the attack. England knew his brother had accepted that he wasn't a normal little boy.

"How much of the stories are true?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly.

"Well… we do have extreme longevity, but we're not completely immortal. And we don't cause bad things to happen, we just… live through them. And… we get involved if we have to. But we don't cause them."

"How long have you know for?"

"Not long. Only since we went to get you back."

"Yeah… you seemed different." He stared at him. "So… who are you? What do I call you?"

"I…" England struggled. "I'd better tell you the exact nature of what we are."

"Maybe you should."

"Peter… we are... this is going to sound insane..."

"Everything is _already_ insane." Peter scowled. "Tell me."

"We... we are..." He took a deep breath. "Peter... we're personifications."

Peter stared blankly at him.

"What?"

"We... we represent... we _are_... we're countries, Peter."

"Countries?"

"Yes... we... we represent the people of different nations." Peter just looked confused now. England put a hand to his own chest. "I... I'm England."

Peter's eyes widened.

"E... En... That's impossible. We're _in_ England."

"I'm not the land. The land is more like... my house. We live in the country we embody... but we exist too. And... and that's why we had to be safe. Because if we die... the effects on our people could be catastrophic."

Peter shook his head slightly. He let out a hollow laugh.

"I was expecting something insane... but that is just..."

"Everyone who has come to this house is a different nation. Ludwig is –"

"Germany." Peter seemed to speak without thinking, for he instantly looked shocked at himself.

"Yes. Yao is China, Gilbert is Prussia."

"Prussia?"

"It... well, it doesn't exist anymore, not since the second world war. It was part of Germany."

"Why's he alive then?"

"He took on the role of East Germany, and that's still distinct enough to keep him going. Sometimes people can change roles. But... it would take me forever to explain all the different intricacies of our existence." England took a deep breath. "What's important is... well, we exist. Once... a long time ago, people knew exactly who and what we were. There was sometimes a bit of trouble, but we could handle it. But as weapons grew more advanced, able to destroy us without us even knowing we were under attack, we had to hide what we were, pretend to be normal humans."

"And then... you were discovered?"

"Yes. It got to a point where we had to implicate our emergency plan; hide our identities from everyone, including ourselves." England took a deep breath. "That... that was ten years ago."

"Ten? But... why can't I remember ten, then?"

"We don't age, Peter. Physically, you have been twelve years old for a long time. Obviously, that would arouse suspicion. So we were on cycles; every few years, our memories would be wiped again, and we would wake up in a new town, as a new person. Our cycle was set to three years; you would be eleven to thirteen. After that, people would begin to notice you weren't aging. So we had to start again every three years."

"You mean... I've had... how many different lives?"

"This is your fourth human life. Your fifth altogether. I... I'm sorry, Peter. It... it needed to be done."

Peter was quiet for a long moment.

"But... have you... has Arthur always...?"

"Yes. Whatever your name was, I was always your brother. I... I'm not Arthur anymore... but I'm still... I'm still your brother... and I still... I still love you, Peter. And... and whatever happens... I will be there."

"So... my... the nation me... you are actually his brother?"

"Yes. Of course I am, Peter. Look at me. We look so similar... of course we're brothers."

"_We're_ not brothers," said Peter. "Who... who am I... as a nation?"

"You're... you're a country called Sealand."

Peter stared blankly at him.

"I've never heard of that country."

"No... it's not really... it hasn't been officially recognised as a country."

_I might see if I can do something about that._ If his brother had had to suffer the drawbacks of being a nation... then he deserved to be recognised as one.

"W... where is it?"

"It... it's on an old war fort. Off the coast of England. One of my old World War Two forts. That's why you... Sealand is my little brother."

"A _war fort_?"

"Yes... that's why it was never officially recognised, which is one reason why you're a child. As... as country... Sealand can't grow.

Peter stared at him for a long time. Suddenly, he held out his hand again.

"What is that hat? It's mine, isn't it?"

"Yes," said England, handing it to him. "Well... it's Sealand's."

"Why do you have it?"

"It... it's a trust token."

"A what?"

"In case we ever needed to be woken up, we all chose an object which, when handed to us, would... would make us trust the person who had done so. I... I didn't want to force you to listen..."

Peter ran a finger along the hat's rim. He did feel a lot better with it there, slightly more inclined to listen. But this man still had Arthur's face, so a large part of him always wanted to listen.

"What happens now then?"

"That... we've decided to wake up the nations again. This plan didn't work. B..." England gulped. "But I won't force you to..."

"What will happen if I don't?"

"I... I'm not sure..." admitted England. "But I won't force you... to give up..."

"To give up my life." Peter looked at the hat for a long time. Eventually, he looked up.

"How... how do we... wake up?"

England reached into his pocket.

"Our memories... the personalities of the nations... are stored. In these." He held up the silver cylinder that contained... well... his brother, to be frank.

"How does it work?"

"I'm... not entirely sure. But when the cylinder is held in front of the face and twisted, the original personality returns. We... I can still remember being Arthur. And it opens up memories of all previous human lives. But... you don't..."

"Give it to me." Peter's voice was remarkably calm, filled with more authority than a young boy should have. England hesitantly held it out.

"You... you're sure... you're sure about this?"

Peter put the hat on his head and took the cylinder.

"You really aren't Arthur," he said softly. "Arthur told me that... no matter how upsetting the truth is... it's better than lying to yourself." He offered a small, brave smile. "And... if my memories are still here... then I won't be completely gone. Not like this... Sealand was."

England said nothing. Peter looked down at the cylinder. He grasped it tightly in both hands, trembling hands. Despite what he had said...

"Goodbye Peter Kirkland," he whispered, and he twisted the cylinder.


	39. Chapter 39

**Author's Note: Apologising in advance for how badly written this is. So I've found another kind of scene I can't write. Nothing really happens here… but I felt the scene had to be included.**

The room was packed, full of the sound of joyous laughter and nations screaming each other's names. Everyone was overflowing with sheer delight, with even the most austere people embracing once forgotten loved ones.

Sealand stuck close to England. He remembered that England had never exactly had 'friends', as such, but nonetheless, he was being greeted with near violent joy by people who had once professed to hate him. That was happening with everyone. Sealand himself, who most had always been indifferent too, was greeted with mass enthusiasm.

He saw two people hurrying towards them, a man and a girl. Sealand's face lit up.

"Wy!" he shouted, rushing over to meet her. Her brother didn't even seem to notice him, too busy hurling himself at England.

"How long have you been... awake for?"

"A few days. I think we were some of the last to be woken."

Sealand hugged her.

"And… have you been…?"

"All my lives have been quite boring. But, I heard… that you …"

Sealand attempted a smile and a shrug.

"That was nothing… well, apart from making them abandon the whole plan…" He laughed weakly. "Uh..."

"Sealand!"

He was grateful to have a distraction, but it already occurred that every time a new person appeared he would go through the same hugging, asking if each other were OK, assuring each other they were fine, process. He should have known that the instant he looked around these thoughts would be banished by joy.

"Latvia!" He nearly knocked his friend over in his enthusiasm.

"I… I'm so glad to see you again!"

"Same," grinned Peter. "How's your life been?"

"It's been fine…" Latvia gestured to himself. "I look too young to be left by myself, so I always had to have some complicated back story about how I'd come to live with my Estonian cousin."

"I just did the little brother thing," said Sealand, nodding at England, who was now being accosted by some territories. "I think… Wy, you did too, didn't you?"

Wy nodded.

"Our story wasn't very convincing; Australia looks about seventeen himself."

Latvia smiled.

"My story was unlikely… but I never questioned it."

The other two nodded their agreement.

"Kind of creepy really…" said Sealand. "That they could… blind us like that."

"Yeah…" Wy shuddered. "I hope we never have to do that again."

A silence fell, which felt wrong, given the equation. Thankfully, a third friend chose that time to make his entrance.

"Little Wy!" called Seborga, bounding over. "Sealand." He hugged them both and then hugged Latvia for good measure, even if he had never spoken to him before.

"I suppose you did the brother trick too," said Sealand.

"Hm? Oh, yes! My brothers were kept in contact, so I went between them between lives."

Peter frowned.

"Why?"

"Variation. It made the different lives… more different!"

"You don't really know, do you?"

"Who cares?" Seborga threw his hands in the air for no apparent reason. "We're all back now! We have to catch up properly!"

"Well, we can…"

"Sealand," said Latvia softly, nodding at something behind him. Sealand turned around.

"D… Dad." That word felt incredibly strange, after all this time. Sealand cast a glance at England, wondering how he would react to Sweden coming to reclaim his 'son'. He wouldn't complain, Sealand knew that, but after ten years of being Arthur…

Peter Kirkland was still alive in Sealand's mind, still influencing his thoughts. All of the human personalities were integrating into the nation-mind. And Peter Kirkland knew that his older brother loved him, no matter what Sealand had always told himself.

England wasn't looking. Good. That meant that Sealand could do what he wanted to do and run into Sweden's embrace without feeling guilty. Too guilty, anyway.

"How've you been?" whispered Sweden, holding him close.

"I've been fine. England's been taking good care of me."

Sweden smiled. It quickly slipped back to a frown.

"I heard…"

"Yes. There was some trouble. But it's all OK now. I'll… I'll tell you about it later."

"Yes, good. It's not the time now."

Sealand breathed a sigh of relief. He really didn't want to think about everything now.

Except…

A thought entered his head. Sealand tried to push it away, but he found that it wasn't something he could ignore. He stepped away.

"B… before we can go home… I… I have to do something."

Sweden raised an eyebrow. Sealand's friends looked puzzled too.

"I need to talk to England. I have to…" He looked appealingly at Sweden, who nodded. Sealand smiled gratefully.

"Thanks. I'll be… a couple of days, maybe. I'll get back as soon as possible." He turned to Latvia, Wy and Seborga. "See you later."

He ran up to England, who had looked up and had been watching him with Sweden, a somewhat wistful look on his face. He raised his eyebrows when Sealand came rushing over.

"What's wrong?"

"England… I need you to take me somewhere. There's something I need to do. As soon as possible; I want to put everything behind me."

England frowned.

"OK… tell me what it is… and I'll see what I can do."

**Author's Note: OK, so one chapter left! Which is really an epilogue. Sorry this one took so long, for so little substance. I'm not sure how good I am at characterising people either, and I just can't write in dialect, so I couldn't do Sweden-speech. And, random note, isn't it sad how spellchecker hates micro nations so much? There's so much red on my page as I'm typing…**


	40. Chapter 40

She was sat alone, in the furthest corner of the garden.

They had thought for a long time about what to do with her. Nobody wanted to kill her, and they couldn't use the memory device on her; it would almost definitely leave a human child brain dead.

So they had left her at a Children's Home. She was only allowed to give her first name, and wasn't allowed to breathe a word about her life before now. All traces of her existence had been erased. As far as everyone else was concerned, a twelve year old girl with no history or family had appeared from nowhere.

They would always be watching her. She knew that, and that, even if they didn't want to, they would kill her if they had to. They had given her a second chance, but that didn't mean they were going to trust her, and she certainly wasn't getting a third. For the rest of her life, she would live with the knowledge that they were there, and that if she said a word she would die. For her, that would feel a long time, but to them, a human lifespan wasn't really anything.

Sealand felt a pang of pity, watching her. It was hardly her fault that she'd ended up with a lunatic for a guardian. But it was hardly their fault either.

There was no-one nearby. Sealand worked out where he could stand to avoid detection by anyone else, and went to step in front of her.

"Stacy?"

She started, spinning around. Her mouth fell open.

"P… Peter…? What…" Her face hardened. "What do you want?"

"I just… I wanted to see how you were… There was a point where it was almost possible that we might be friends."

"Why would I ever want to be friends with a freak? You know full well I was helping my guardian to get rid of monsters like you."

Sealand scowled. He'd known this was stupid, but he just… he wanted to talk to her one last time before he ignored her existence forever. Just to see exactly how damaged she was by all this.

"We're not monsters, Stacy. Your guardian was the one who kidnapped me and did… stuff. And I escaped much worse."

"Well, she's dead now, isn't she? So you don't need to worry about her."

"I don't," agreed Sealand. He paused. "What happened to… what happened to your parents, anyway?"

"They died!" spat Stacy. "They were in the first load to be killed by you and your friends."

"Oh." Yes, he really shouldn't have come. England had tried to talk him out of it, but he had felt like he _needed_ to come. "So… they were after us as well?"

"Because they were good people, yes, they were."

Sealand sighed.

"Stacy, I'm really sorry for you. I wasn't the person who killed your parents. I'm a child."

"You're not a _child_!"

"I am, it just takes us longer to mature. All the investigating people were doing into us, all the planning to… to kill us… I was just a scared kid."

She snorted.

"Save me your sob story."

"Fine. Bye Stacy."

Sealand turned to leave.

"Wait." The word was forced out. Sealand knew what she wanted to ask, and he knew he wasn't going to tell her, but he turned back anyway.

"Yes?"

She scowled at the ground.

"What… what are you?"

"I'm not evil," he said. "None of us are. We don't _cause_ the bad things, we just have to live through them. And if we didn't… the entire world would be in trouble. That's why we couldn't afford to freely hand out second chances."

She glared at him.

"But… what _are_ you?"

Sealand shook his head.

"You know I can't tell you that." He turned away. "I came to see how you were, but I'm never going to come again. And you know someone will always be watching you, but they won't interfere in your life unless you interfere in ours'. So you should just forget about us."

"How can I do that? You destroyed my life!"

Sealand looked back at her one last time.

"Stacy, I'm sorry for you, I really am. But this has all happened, we couldn't have done any differently, and the best you can do is to get on with your life now. I'm sorry I came, but I wanted to see how you were, before _I_ forget about _you_." He set off again. "Bye Stacy. Please try to do something with your life."

Now it was time for him to forget he'd ever been human.

Except for one thing.

* * *

England was waiting in the car for him. He had argued against the idea, but while Peter would probably have listened to his older brother eventually, Sealand would not, and he knew it.

England sighed. What kind of person was he, that he could only have a good relationship with his little brother when he was someone else entirely?

The passenger door opened and Sealand climbed in. England set off immediately.

"How did it go?" he asked, as Sealand plugged his seatbelt in.

"Not well. You were right. I hope she isn't stupid enough to try anything."

"Yes," agreed England. He hesitated.

"Sealand…?"

"Yeah?" His brother looked at him, with almost… expectant eyes. England struggled to get the words out.

"Would… I know you're back living with Sweden now… but would you consider… coming to… to stay with me… sometime?" He kept his eyes on the road the entire time he was speaking.

"Yeah… that'd be cool. I'd like that… bro."

For a moment England was seriously concerned he might crash the car. Bro? Sealand… had called him…

He took one hand off the wheel and held it out. Sealand took it and he squeezed his brother's fingers briefly. England smiled as he returned his hand to the wheel.

If being different people for a decade was the way to learn to be a proper big brother… then he was not going to mess up again. If nothing else, this had given them all opportunity to take a proper look at themselves.

England had never been a good big brother. But this time… he would make sure he did it right.

**Author's Note: I'm not great at endings, so you get my best shot. I had to show what had happened to Stacy, even if it doesn't make much sense for Sealand to go there. And I wanted something nice and cute to round off the story. This chapter/epilogue shouldn't have taken so long, but I lost y memory stick, and after a couple of days searching, I gave up and started rewriting it. And then I was away for a night.**

**Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who ever gave this story a chance, bigger thanks to those who stuck with it, and big big BIG thanks to my lovely reviewers (although I appreciate every review I get, special mention goes to AllHeroesWearHats).**

**Once again, thank you all, because my story would be utterly pointless if no-one ever read it.**

**I'm not great at ending author's notes either. So… another thank you!**


End file.
